Reconciled
by mkaz
Summary: Movieverse, theatrical ending. Still reeling from the revelation that Hunter is Kyle, Lindy must find a way to reconcile her love for the man she thought she knew with her feelings for the man that is. Rated T for reference to adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

She couldn't help but stare at the hand holding hers across the table. Smooth, well-muscled. Flawless.

It fit the man it belonged to. Lindy's eyes drifted up from the hand, to the outstretched arm, to the shoulder, and finally to the face. A perfect aquiline nose in the very center, flanked by chisled cheeks and chin. Eyes deep and blue like the sea. A smile so straight and white that any dentist would have killed to have been able to call it his work. This gorgeous face, flanked by attractively messy, golden locks of hair.

And somewhere, she was telling herself, deep inside, was the scarred man she'd fallen in love with.

After their reunion outside of school, after Kyle had revealed who he was and they'd kissed, he took her to lunch at a nearby café. He wanted to explain everything to her – about Kendra and the curse, about how he'd been there that night that Victor had attacked her and her father and why he'd taken her into his home.

He held her hand the whole time he told her the story. And Lindy heard it, everything he told her, but there was still a part of her mind that was far away and mulling over what had happened on its own.

"So you see…it's still me," he told her, gently rubbing his thumb over the top of her hand. "Everything that I told you, everything we shared…it was all real."

_Except I thought you were someone else,_ Lindy thought to herself.

She knew she shouldn't be angry with him. After all, he was unrecognizable after he'd been cursed. She probably wouldn't have believed he was Kyle even if he'd told her the truth from the beginning. She could understand that it was easier to create a new identity and a new life for himself, especially if he felt there was no hope of going back to what he used to be.

She looked up from his hand again, back to his eyes. They were pleading with her. It was familiar somehow. It was then that she realized that it was the same look in his eyes he had towards the later part of their friendship, when it was less about getting her to trust him and more about getting her to love him.

A smile spread across her face. "So…does this count as our first date?" she asked him.

He laughed, low and melodic. "I'd like to think we're past the 'just dating' phase."

But Lindy didn't laugh with him. She was serious, and she said, "We are, aren't we? We've been through more crap together than people twice our age."

He reached out and stroked her cheek. "Yeah. Definitely."

Just then, their waitress came over to their table with their orders. It didn't escape Lindy's attention that the girl laid her plate on the table without a word, but she took her time giving Kyle his food, taking the opportunity to chat with him, flirt with him.

She said that she recognized him from the last time he'd been in the café, when he and his friends came in to celebrate his green committee victory. She also told him that she loved watching his father on the evening news.

Kyle was polite to her, but dismissive. He thanked her for her compliments and told her they'd let her know if they needed anything. Despite knowing she'd been shot down, she still smiled and told Kyle she'd be happy to help him with anything he needed. She made a point of continuing to ignore Lindy as she left.

He tried to blow it off after the waitress left. He spoke of them going on their own trip that summer, seeing Machu Pichu like she'd planned, and a number of other sights. He'd even spoke about going to the lakehouse cottage his father had, and picking up where they'd left off on their vacation away from New York.

Lindy pretended to focus on eating her food, but she was thinking about the waitress. She wasn't jealous – not in that way, at least. It was…jarring, that's all. She was remembering reading Hunter's letters, realizing his love for her, and it made her think about their life together. She knew he preferred moving around in the obscurity of night, shrouded in dark clothes, his face hidden inside of hooded jackets. She knew what a big step it had been for him to come to her school in broad daylight in front of all those people and confess his feelings for her.

Lindy had been preparing herself for living her life with a disfigured man. She'd been steeling herself against the stares, the whispers, the cruel comments that would be made behind their backs and even to their faces. She'd been looking forward to drawing Hunter out of his solitude, to making him feel comfortable and loved even when there were people around them. She'd accepted that she would be his tether to the world, and while there would be the burden of the responsibility, she would also feel needed and wanted in a way that she'd never felt before, not even with her dad.

But that responsibility had melted away with the breaking of the curse. Now it was Kyle standing in Hunter's place – Kyle, who was handsome and charming and could have any woman he wanted.

_But he wants _you_ – only you!_ A voice exploded in her head. What did it matter that girls might throw themselves at him? He knew what it was like to be ugly and unwanted, and he'd never make Lindy feel that way. What they had was stronger than just a flirtation, beyond mere attraction. It was love.

She felt something caress her arm, and realized it was Kyle's hand. He smiled at her. "Where do you want to go now?"

She looked around and realized the waitress must have come and taken away their plates. The check was paid, with several bills peaking from the outside of the book.

She knew there was only one place she wanted to be right now. "Could we – could we go back to the apartment?"

They rode his motorcycle across the bridge, back to Brooklyn. Lindy clung to Kyle as he drove, and she had to admit to herself: it felt good to have her arms around her guy, the sun warming her back as the wind blew through her hair. It felt like a moment out of one of those sappy chick flicks she loved but would never admit to loving.

She eagerly walked in when Kyle unlocked the door to the apartment. God, it felt like coming home. Even though it had only been a few weeks since she'd been there last, it felt like a lifetime. Of course everything was still the same – it still had that clean, cool, bare feeling to it. She ducked her head into the living room, half expecting to see Will listening to the television, or perhaps Zola clearing off the coffee table and grumbling about "dem boys neva can find de trashcan."

But the apartment was empty. Zola must have left for the day, and Will probably went out on his own – he did that, occasionally. It was just Lindy and Kyle.

She could feel him behind her, the warmth of him. She turned and smiled. "I guess…I left some of my stuff here when I had to leave."

"Your room is still the way you left it. It's always going to be your room."

She looked up at the stairs leading to her room, thinking of going to see it, but then got another idea. "Let's go to the greenhouse," she asked, taking his hand. "I bet the roses are completely bloomed now, right?"

Sad lines of guilt appeared on Kyle's face. "Uh…I don't have the greenhouse anymore."

Lindy's eyebrows raised. "Was it part of the curse or something?"

He looked away. "No, it's not that. It's…well, when you left, I didn't think you were ever going to come back. So…I tore it down."

Lindy felt her heart tighten in disappointment. She turned away, trying to stop the tears that were pricking at her eyes. She'd loved that greenhouse.

He'd done it out of spite. Lindy had said he was a good friend, which wasn't what he wanted to hear, so he destroyed it. He'd only built it for her, to impress her. He didn't care about the roses living inside. She clenched her fists, channeling that control she'd worked so hard throughout her life to achieve. She'd had plenty of practice: from dealing with her father's addiction and the resulting selfishness, to ignoring the backhanded insults of her rich classmates and even the professors at Buckston, who praised her for her accomplishments "considering her situation."

His hand clasped her shoulder, and gently turned her around. "I'm so sorry. It was a douchebag thing to do." He pulled her closer to him. "I'll rebuild it. I can do it again. And it'll be even better this time, since I know what I'm doing now."

She knew he was sorry. She could see it on his face. Finally she relented and allowed herself to relax against his chest. "What do we do now?" she murmured.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean…what about school? We can't graduate with the rest of our class – we missed our senior year. Do we take an incomplete and graduate a year behind?"

Kyle chuckled as he led her to the sofa. "You know…I've been so focused on us that I didn't even think about it."

Lindy thought for a second. "Well…maybe we can take the GED exam. Will's a certified tutor. He can help us prepare, can't he?" She studied Kyle's face, which seemed unreadable at the moment. "I mean…unless you'd rather go back to Buckston, see your old friends and stuff."

He shook his head. "The only friends I've ever really had were the ones that lived with me in this house. I say, let's do the GED thing. Then we can stay here at home and prepare for it. It'll be like it was before."

Lindy smiled. He thought of this apartment as home too – not the luxurious loft he shared with his father in the city, but this place that had once been hell for both of them. Without thinking, she reached up and caressed his head, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

He sighed and leaned into her caress. But something felt wrong to Lindy. Something told her it should have been warm, bare skin mottled with scars that she should be feeling under her fingers, not tousled locks of blonde hair.

She needed to let go – why couldn't she let go?

She pulled her hand away and got up from the sofa. "I should get home," she told him. "I haven't been back there for a while, and I should…just go and make sure there isn't anything that I need to take care of."

Kyle looked worried. "Are you sure it's safe? Wouldn't you rather stay here?"

She smiled as bravely as she could. "Victor's been put away for a good long time. We've got a new security guard in the building that seems to know his stuff. I'll be okay. I just need to check on the place."

By the time they'd gotten to her apartment, the sun had set and twilight had begun to cover everything in thick patches of grey. Kyle insisted on walking Lindy up to her apartment.

"Would you like me to stay with you tonight?" Kyle asked when they got to her door. Upon seeing the amused look on Lindy's face he clarified, "I mean, I could sleep on the couch or something. I didn't mean 'stay with you' like 'sleep with you,' not until you're ready to…" he trailed off, looking miserable.

"I appreciate it, really," she told him. "Why don't you talk to Will and let me know tomorrow if he wants to help us?"

"I will," he replied. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a kiss.

Lindy could feel the passion in his kiss. It brought butterflies to her stomach, made her heart race. It was the way she'd always imagined true romance would be, along with the hand-written love notes and roses of every hue.

Kyle held her after the kiss was over, his lips against her ear. "I love you, Lindy," he whispered to her.

It felt so good to feel those strong arms around her, to hear that deep, gentle voice she'd fallen in love with. "I love you too, Hunter," she told him.

She realized her mistake in an instant. She felt him freeze in her arms. She pulled away, her face warm with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, it just came out-"

"It's okay, it's okay," he assured her, holding her hands in his. "It's been a long day. I'll see you tomorrow."

He left right after that. Lindy opened the door to the apartment she and her father shared and for a brief second, was surprised to find it dark. That's when she reminded herself that her father wasn't here anymore, that he'd finally been placed in a rehab facility in Great Neck, where some of her mother's family lived.

Seeing her uncle John had been a riot. He sat in the waiting room with her while they pumped her father's stomach and shook his head. "Lindy, I'm so sorry," he told her. "I had no idea it had gotten this bad."

If it hadn't been such a sober moment and therefore completely inappropriate, she would have laughed. The man was full of shit. He knew exactly how bad it was – he just didn't want to be bothered. As long as Lindy was there, doing her best to look after her father and keep him out of trouble, it was no skin off his back.

But Lindy wasn't there to stop his brother-in-law from overdosing, and it took three attempts to reach her. So John had no choice but to come all the way to New York and make sure things were taken care of. When Lindy finally arrived at the hospital he demanded to know where she was, and she gave him a look so menacing that he immediately dropped the issue.

Uncle John had promised to pay any hospital bills that came in for her father, and seeing the pile of letters by the mail slot, Lindy knew it was time to make her uncle make good on his promise. She flipped through them – dozens of services provided in the hospital, all billed separately, but adding up to what was probably thousands of dollars.

After she dropped the bills into a large envelope and addressed it to her uncle's home in Great Neck (she didn't bother to include a note), she went into the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

She undressed in front of the mirror, something that she usually didn't do. However, looks and appearance had been such a focus that day that she couldn't help but study herself in the glass.

She'd never thought of herself as ugly – just not particularly stunning. She felt…average. Average height, average weight. Her hair, dark and thick and always a bit messy, was probably her best feature. Everything else was pretty much acceptable.

Her eyes traveled from her face, to her neck, and down to her breasts as she removed her shirt. Again, average in their appearance and not unattractive. Lindy thought of Kyle's old girlfiend, Sloan, who had fuller breasts than her, and had no trouble showing them off in tight, low cut blouses. Kyle's ex-best friend Trey certainly seemed to be enjoying them the night of the high school Halloween party.

It was then that Lindy realized that the hooded figure who had been watching them that night and who she talked to must have been Kyle. Her heart ached in that moment when she imagined what that must have felt like for him.

She began to unbutton her jeans, and as they slid off her hips she sucked in her breath as a quick stab of pain hit her. It was the scar. It amazed her: it had happened nearly two years ago, but sometimes it would hurt just the same as it did when it was first healing.

She let her jeans puddle around her ankles and then stepped out of them. Slowly she raised her eyes from the floor to land on the angry, red, puckered line that stretched from inside her thigh to the side of it, right below her right hip.

Because of where it was, wearing swimsuits was a problem. She thought bitterly that it was probably a good thing that she was never popular with the rich kids and was never invited to any of their pool parties. And, of course, her father was always too high to be bothered with taking her to the beach or even to the community pool a couple blocks away.

Still though, the scar was high enough that she could wear most clothes and not have to worry about it. The only people who would ever see it would be Lindy herself, and her doctor, and…whoever she ended up being intimate with.

She was a virgin, though not through any ethical or religious decision to wait. She simply hadn't found the one.

After she read Hunter's letters, she knew it would be him. She wouldn't withhold herself from someone who could love her that much – she couldn't. What she wasn't sure of was if he'd be willing to reveal his flesh to her. After all, it was nearly three weeks of her living in his house before he finally looked at her in the face.

She imagined that he'd be reluctant at first, citing that he was just too ugly. He might even tell her that the only way it would ever happen between them would be in total darkness.

And then she'd show him the scar, and tell him the story of how it had happened to her. She'd take him in her arms, caressing the open wounds on his neck and face. He'd finally relax into her arms, knowing that there was someone out there who knew what it felt like to hide, who'd love him and never leave him.

She even knew what she'd say to him in that moment. "So you see? We're both scarred."

Lindy wanted to show the scar to Hunter. But she didn't want to show it to Kyle.

After her shower she crawled into her bed, turning to face the window like she always did when she was ready for sleep. She looked around the room, at each wall and the ceiling, and realized that this was going to be one of the last times she'd ever sleep there. That was all right with her. It symbolized the end of a dark and unhappy chapter for her.

She felt the scar burn again. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to block out the pain, thinking back to that moment earlier in the day in the street with Kyle, when he asked her if she could imagine that love. The kind of love that changes a man, that makes the ugliness on the inside disappear.

She fell asleep trying to imagine that love, trying to cling to it, hold it tightly to her.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Will and Zola were sitting together, marveling at the miracle that had happened to them.

"It's a dream, right?" Will asked his friend.

"Must be," Zola said in wonder. "But happy. Very damn happy!"

"What's damn happy?" a voice asked at the far end of the room. They looked up to see their employer's son, Kyle, smiling at them.

"Oh!" Zola cried out, rushing over to embrace him. "Me boy! Me handsome boy!" She touched his face, feeling the smooth, unscarred skin and the golden hair that had returned once again.

Will remained where he was. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

Kyle cocked his head to one side. "Will, it's me, Kyle. Don't you recognize…" he trailed off, realizing. "Wait, you can see me?"

"Blindie's got his groove back," Will answered in affirmation, performing a batusi-like dance move.

"And me children's green cards came in de mail! It's a miracle!" Zola added.

Kyle smiled at his housekeeper, sending a mental "thank you" to Kendra. "I'm happy for you both. No one deserves it more than you two."

"And you certainly earned your devastating good looks. You…did get your good looks back, right? Otherwise, I have no idea what you've been bitching about all this time," Will said.

Kyle sighed, thinking of the day before with Lindy. "Yeah I did get them back, but…"

Zola's smile faded. "But what, darlin'? Didn't you and Lindy make up?"

"Yeah, didn't she have to tell you she loved you or some gooshy crap like that?" Will asked.

"We did make up, and she did tell me she loved me, but…I don't know…it's like she misses the old, scarred me or something. She seems…distant." He looked up at the faces of his friends. "And…you guys totally don't look surprised to hear this. Why?"

Zola and Will exchanged looks. Will took a breath, trying to explain. "Well, let's see, in one day, she goes from believing the guy who she lived with for six months doesn't care about her, to having him show up unexpectedly at her school and telling her he loves her. Then, she tells him she loves him, and sees him go from looking, as you described, like the lead in a slasher-flick, to a serious piece of eye-candy. And said eye-candy was not only the douchiest guy in school at one time, but he was also put under a magic spell." Kyle's tutor leaned back on the sofa and crossed his arms. "Frankly, I give her props for not running away screaming."

Kyle looked to Zola for a more comforting, motherly approach. "You must give her time. Everything she think she know been turned upside down," she told him.

"But it's still me. It was always me, deep down," Kyle argued.

"And just how long did it take _you_ to figure that out?" Will countered. "Zola's right. You need to give her time to adjust to the fact that Hunter and Kyle are the same person."

Kyle nodded. "Listen, no matter what happens, I want you two to know that I appreciate you hanging in here with me. And I wanted to know…if you'd be willing to stick around a little longer."

"Another season in purgatory? I'm game," Will answered brightly.

Kyle laughed, and explained. "Lindy and I aren't going back to Buckston. I think we can do pretty well without the blow up classmates and the $80-a-minute teachers. We're going to get our GED's. And Will, we were hoping you'd help us get ready for it."

Will inhaled sharply. "You sure about this? Daddy's not going to be very pumped about his pride and joy wasting four years of tuition and not graduating with honors."

Kyle scoffed. "Would he ever really notice the difference? For all he knows, I sold myself to an Armenian circus and I'm making a nice living as the main side-show attraction."

"Your father hurt you, I know," Zola told him. "But he provided for you. He deserve to know what your plans are."

When Kyle still looked unconvinced, she added, "Don't stoop to his level, darlin'. Be de betta man and tell him de truth."

Kyle nodded. "You're right. I'm going to go talk to him now." He turned to leave.

"Hey, uh, Kyle?" Will called out. Kyle stopped to look at his tutor. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about Zola's and my incredible streak of good luck, would you?"

Kyle winked at his friends. "Always hope."

* * *

"Kyle! Well, just look at you!"

Kyle smiled shyly at Brenda, the buxom, brassy-haired receptionist who had worked the front desk at his father's news station for as long as he could remember. "Hi, Brenda. Good to see you."

"Isn't this unexpected! Does your father know you've come back from Japan?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes in confusion, and then it hit him. Of course. Always concerned about saving face, Rob Kingson must have told his co-workers that his son had joined a foreign exchange program through school and that's why there'd been no trace of him for nearly a year.

Kyle was tempted to burst the illusory bubble his father and created – he felt he deserved no less for his neglect – but he decided instead to play along. "Actually…I came back a little sooner than planned. I wanted to surprise him."

"Oh, and I'm sure it will be a lovely surprise! I'll go get him now."

"Thanks. Oh, and Brenda? Don't tell him it's me. Tell him…it's an old friend. Please."

"Ah, he'll love that! Okay, wait here in the lounge, and I'll get him."

As Brenda walked away, Kyle felt a cold slice of guilt in the back of his head for the portly receptionist. He and his father used to make fun of her behind her back. On the few occasions when Rob brought Kyle to the news station, they'd joke about the "gut with butts" who worked the front desk. And Brenda had been nothing but kind to him. Now having a new outlook on himself and others, he knew this probably wouldn't be the only time when he'd meet someone from his past and have to face his previous cruelty with shame.

Kyle could hear his father's voice as he exited the elevator and came down the hall. "Damn it, Brenda! Just tell me who it is, I don't have time for games…"

Kyle heard his father stop in his tracks when he entered the lounge. He turned around, smiling brightly. "Hi, Dad," he greeted him with fake enthusiasm.

Rob looked like he'd seen a ghost. "K-Kyle!" he managed to stammer. "You-you look…"

"Yes, doesn't he look wonderful? That exchange program definitely did him some good," Brenda interjected brightly.

"Dad, I was hoping to catch you up on all my adventures in Japan. This is a good time for you, isn't it?" Kyle asked, maintaining the plastic smile he'd learned from years of watching his father on TV.

Without waiting for an answer, Kyle took his shocked father's elbow and steered him out of the lounge and back to his office. "Hold his calls please, won't you, Brenda?" Kyle called out as they left.

Kyle ushered his father into his office and locked the door behind them. By now, Rob had finally regained most of his wits and turned around to face his once-again handsome son. "Kyle! How is this possible? We saw every doctor in the country-"

"Didn't matter. It was love. Love redeemed me."

Rob chuckled. "Well, I'm glad I could help."

Kyle managed to keep his temper in spite of his father's arrogant presumptions and maintained the smile on his face while Rob continued. "But that's not important now. What matters is that you're healthy and healed, and we can move you out of that apartment and back home-"

"I'm not moving back to the city," Kyle interrupted, now disposing of the Ken-doll smile.

"Well of course you are! How else do you plan to attend Buckston?"

"I'm not going back to Buckston either."

"Oh, Kyle. Don't worry about missing that year of school. I'll talk to the headmaster, throw a few bucks his way for a new art wing or something, and it'll be fine."

"I have no doubt you could pull something like that off," Kyle agreed, running his hands over the dark mahogany of Rob's desk, "But that's not the issue. I don't want to go back to the loft, and I don't want to go back to Buckston. I want things to remain as they are."

"Remain as they are?" Rob repeated incredulously. "You want to rot away in that shack in Brooklyn, no friends, no high school diploma, no nothing?"

Kyle smiled bitterly. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it just a few months earlier."

"Oh! God! That was different. I mean you were-you were-"

"A hideously scarred freak? Is that what you were going to say?"

"Your options were taken away," Rob explained diplomatically. "I mean, yes, it was a traumatic time in our lives, but we got through it. And now it's time for us to get back to our life."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "What's all this 'we,' 'us,' and 'our' stuff? I haven't seen you in a year!" He walked up to his father, shaking his head. "I'm not going to stand here and blame you for what you did or didn't do. That's not why I came here. All I came to do is ask that you allow things to remain as they are. Let Zola and Will stay on with me. Let me keep the apartment. Once I get my GED, you can sell it."

Rob's eyes widened. "GED? That's for lowlifes and backwoods hicks who can't do any better. No son of mine is going to throw away a good education on something like that!"

"How do you know that my good looks are permanent?" Kyle asked with a sly smile. He didn't miss the subtle shift in his father's expression from outrage to fear. "What if I have some horrible, disfiguring disease that's chronic, but incurable? Are you really going to take that chance?"

"That couldn't happen…could it?"

"I'm not asking for anything that you can't comfortably provide. Give me another year—another year to do what I need to do. That's all I ask."

Just then, both Rob's Bluetooth lit up with a call, as did his desk phone. "Kyle, I have to take these."

Kyle sighed. "Sure, Dad. Are you going to let me have my way?"

Rob was already waving him out of his office. "Sure, sure. We'll keep in touch."

As Kyle left his father's office, he felt a bittersweet sense of relief that in the midst of the incredible changes in his life, there were some things that he could rely on to stay the same.

* * *

When Kyle returned home, he found Will sitting on the balcony, staring out at the afternoon sun.

"You know you shouldn't look directly into that thing, right?" Kyle teased his friend.

"Thanks, Mom. I'll remember that," Will snarked back, then added, "We're on our own for dinner. Zola's been out all day getting ready for her family to come over."

Kyle smiled. That knowledge made his visit to his father that afternoon all the more bearable. "Pizza?" he asked.

"Actually, I was thinking of making dinner. I can finally make something a little more elaborate than soup, comfortably."

"Have you been out here all day?"

Will smiled. "Yeah. I've been watching the sun move across the sky, going from the east to the west, morning to afternoon. I'm hoping we have an amazing sunset and we get some pink and purple streaks."

Kyle looked down. "You never realize the things you take for granted until they're taken away from you."

"That's true. But I'd like to think of getting my sight back as adding a new highlight to my life, instead of bringing all the meaning back to it. I had a pretty good life before this too." The two men smiled at each other.

"We have a lot of work to do," Will told his pupil. "The fact that we spent more time on your love life than your education over the last year doesn't help. But don't worry; I already started ordering the books we'll need to get ready for the GED."

Kyle nodded. "I got my dad to agree to give us a year more in the apartment, so at least that's covered."

"Awesome-balls! The next test is in September, so we only have a few months to prepare if that's the one you and Lindy want to take."

"It is. I'll give her a call now-"

"Actually…she called while you were out," Will said. He looked guilty. "She's trying to clear out her dad's old apartment and settle a few things before she moves back in. She said she'll call soon."

Kyle felt like he'd been struck in the chest. "Why…why didn't she call me and tell me that?"

Will shrugged. "She said she had tried to call you but you didn't answer. So she called me."

Kyle pulled out his cellphone and sure enough, there was one missed call, but no voicemail. She must have called while he was in the loud, crowded lobby at the news station and he didn't hear the ring.

"I'll call her back-"

"She said she was going to be busy for a few days and might not be able to talk," Will warned him. "Maybe you should just pull a Mr. Clean and get your house in order."

Kyle frowned in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"Kyle, remember what I said when you first found Lindy? Baby steps? You took some big leaps there, but now it's time to go back to the ol' toddler trot."

"But…I love her. We love each other."

"I know that. But in the grand scheme of things, you two haven't known each other that long. And…I hate to say it, but Lindy's at somewhat of a disadvantage."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it. She's never hidden her identity. She's worn her entire life on her sleeve. And you've seen her at some of the worst moments of her life. But there's still so much she doesn't know about you." Will saw how his words bothered his friend, so he laid his hand on his shoulder. "She'll come around. I promise."

But patience had never been one of Kyle's strong points. Even now, with this new outlook on life, restlessness had overtaken him.

He tried to dodge it. He spent the rest of the afternoon planning the reconstruction of the greenhouse, figuring out which roses to plant and where in the structure. He decided that now was the time to finally furnish his bedroom – make it feel like home instead of a prison. He'd been a nightowl when he was cursed, staying up all night and falling asleep wherever he happened to be in the apartment, whenever the urge hit him. But now he was going to live in the sunlight again. He was going to live like a man, instead of a beast.

And he owed it all to Lindy.

He tried to keep Will's advice in mind – to take the baby steps with their relationship. But he ached for her. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her. He'd had to fight his desires when he was cursed, finding himself just too repulsive to act on them. He'd believed that once the curse was lifted and he was normal again, there wouldn't be anything standing in his way of him being with Lindy, of showing her what she meant to him.

Except there was now something standing in his way, something that he hadn't anticipated: himself.

Lindy had called him "Hunter" last night when he left her. She still thought of that other part of him – that elusive, wounded animal – as her love.

Kyle never imagined he'd have to compete with himself. Especially when it was an uglier, less confident version of himself.

The hours of the evening seemed painfully drawn out. Kyle worked on the greenhouse, ate Will's Chicken Kiev, did some research on preparing for the GED exam. Finally, Kyle could no longer keep busy and he found himself walking up to Lindy's room.

He could feel her everywhere. He'd decorated the room for her arrival, choosing the furniture, the posters, and the linens, but every part had become a symbol of her. Kyle lay on her bed, breathing in the faintest remnant of her perfume on the sheets. He'd sleep there that night. It was the closest he could come that night to being with her.

He'd begun to drift off, begun to feel dreams hovering just above his consciousness. Then there was a bright ringing noise in his ears. He sat bolt upright, his heart pounding in surprise.

He brought the cell phone to his ear wearily. "Huhlo," he said dully, not bothering to check who was calling.

It was a single word, a single sound, breathed softly into the phone back to him.

"Hi."

It was one word, and Kyle felt he was going to choke on the feeling of joy rising up from his core.

"Hi," he managed to say. "Are you ok?"

"I am," Lindy told him. "I woke you, didn't I?"

"No," he lied. "No, I hadn't quite gotten there yet."

"How was your day?"

"Busy, I guess. Went to see dear ol' dad."

"And?"

"He was too busy to argue with me. We have the apartment for another year."

"That's good." She sighed. "I can't wait to come home."

Kyle's heart leapt from hearing that Lindy thought of the apartment as her home. "When do you think that'll be?" he asked, not caring if he sounded anxious.

She laughed, but there was sadness in the laugh. "Pibner was more than happy to see me go, so all that's left now is getting rid of the stuff in my dad's apartment. Fortunately, he'd sold most of the good stuff to pay for his, ahem, hobby."

"Yeah," was all Kyle could say. He thought he'd had it bad that day, having his father absolve himself of any blame for his actions and then blow his son off for a phone call. He couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for Lindy. To watch your father give up anything and everything to keep him in his habit.

It then occurred to Kyle: Lindy's father was willing to give up his daughter to a total stranger in order to save his life. What could have happened to her, if Kyle's intentions hadn't been as pure as they were?

Lindy's voice shook Kyle out of his thoughts. "My uncle John has decided to help him get back on his feet after he's done in rehab." She paused for a moment. "He asked me…if I wanted to move up to Great Neck and live with him and my aunt."

"But you said no…right?"

"Of course I did." She changed the subject. "Did you find out anything new about the GED?"

Kyle relayed to her what Will had told him about the next test. They both realized it gave them less than three months to prepare, but it was something they wanted to get over and done with.

"I'm gonna come home as soon as I can," Lindy whispered. "I promise."

Kyle nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "I'll wait as long as I have to."

And Kyle meant it. Truly, he'd wait for Lindy forever, if that's what it took.


	3. Chapter 3

_Note: this chapter takes place at the same time as chapter 2, but from Lindy's POV._

* * *

The sun woke Lindy up. It streamed through the window, warming her face. She cast her bleary eyes on the clock on her nightstand and realized it was nearly eleven. She was surprised at how late she'd slept, but at the same time, wasn't. She'd gotten used to staying up with Hunter some nights, watching TV or talking in the greenhouse, then falling into bed just as the sun was rising. As she lay there, she wondered if Kyle was still in bed too, still living on his nocturnal schedule in which the night's darkness embraced him. Or was he now living in the light, settling easily back into the life he'd known?

She picked up her cell phone without a thought, searching her address book to find him. She stared at the name "Hunter" for a few seconds, realizing that she'd have to correct the entry. Before she did that, she hit "send" and listened to the rings.

He didn't pick up. She heard the voicemail greeting come on, and his voice say flatly. "Leave me a message and I'll call you back."

Lindy had never noticed that Kyle didn't refer to himself by name on his greeting. It made sense, though: she knew him as Hunter while the rest of the world knew him as Kyle. He avoided any confusion this way. Just one of the ways to keep her in the dark for as long as he could.

She didn't leave a message. She next tried Will, who answered right away. She told him that she was trying to get things settled with her old apartment – she had the time now that she wasn't going on the trip – and that she'd probably be busy for the next couple of days. Will wished her luck and said he looked forward to seeing her soon. She took it for granted when he said that, thinking it was just a figure of speech he was using. But there was a sense of joy in his voice…something she hadn't heard before. It made her curious.

After getting dressed, grabbing a quick breakfast at the deli, and mailing her father's hospital bills to her uncle, Lindy braced herself for her next big task of the day.

* * *

She felt like everyone was staring at her when she got to Buckston. She knew why, of course: not only had she jumped up and ran out of the line for the bus to the airport yesterday, but she and a heavily scarred, heavily tattooed boy had made quite the scene in front of several dozen people.

She'd nearly made it to the Dean's office to speak with him when a voice called out, "Hey, Taylor!"

Lindy stopped, shutting her eyes in irritation for a moment. She put on her "control" face and turned in the direction of the voice. It was Sloan Alberts, Kyle's ex.

Lindy smiled pleasantly. "Yes?"

Sloan gave a condescending smile in return. "We were all wondering…who _was_ that gorgeous guy you were kissing in the hallway yesterday?" Her snarky comment was, quite predictably, punctuated with a background chorus of snickering from Sloan's "bimbot" friends.

Lindy crossed her arms. "Why do you want to know?"

Sloan looked around at her group of followers for confirmation. "Well, when we saw him, we figured he's got to be the son of some famous star. We were thinking, maybe Freddy Kruger or Jason Vorhees?" Again, her words were followed by a backup of bitchy laughter.

Lindy wondered what Sloan would think if she knew who the boy really was that she was kissing. Would she be jealous? Would she even care – or feel guilty – about the way she'd abandoned Kyle? She probably wouldn't have believed Lindy; after all, Lindy was still having a hard time believing it.

Lindy didn't know, and when she thought about it, this wasn't what she'd come back to Buckston for anyway. She leaned in confidentially. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked Sloan.

"Of course," Sloan replied, in a tone that suggested she clearly couldn't.

Lindy straightened with a smile. "Good. So can I." Without waiting for a reply, she promptly turned on her heel and headed for the Dean's office.

She didn't have an appointment to see Dean Pibner, which she knew was frowned upon. Fortunately his secretary liked Lindy because of all the extra help she'd given her with planning the various school events over the previous year, and allowed her to go in to his office.

"Dean Pibner?" Lindy asked tentatively.

The middle-aged man raised his white head for a moment to take in the young woman asking for him and then promptly turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. "Yes?" he asked sternly.

"I'm Lindy Taylor. I wanted to talk to you…about my account?"

"Scholarship?" he asked bluntly.

Lindy wondered if she reeked of poverty or something. "Yes, sir. I was awarded the Huntley 4-year scholarship-"

"So what do you need?" Dean Pibner still hadn't asked her to sit down.

"Well, I've missed the last six months of school due to…family issues-"

"Did you complete the required leave of absence forms?"

"No, sir. I didn't have a chance-"

"Then you've lost your scholarship. We're not paying for you to not be at school, Miss…" he trailed off, having already forgotten her name.

"Taylor. Lindy Taylor," she told him once again. "I know I've lost my scholarship, Dean Pibner. I've only come to close out my account and get my transcripts."

Upon hearing that Lindy was trying to get out of his hair as fast as he could push her out, his behavior changed – slightly. He pushed the button on his intercom and asked the secretary to look up Lindy's records and email them to him.

Lindy sat in silence while the Dean looked at her records. She knew what he thought of her kind – that she didn't belong in a prestigious school like Buckston. It didn't matter that she dressed primly, that she always looked immaculate, that she worked hard and performed all of the extracurricular activities thrown at her. To people like Dean Pibner, Lindy was a charity.

Finally he looked up at her, his expression grave. "It appears your account is delinquent, Miss Taylor."

Lindy's eyes widened. "Delinquent?"

There was a look of disgust on his face, as if Lindy had stolen money from his pocket. "Your last recorded day of school attendance was November 5th, and you had signed up for a weekend trip to Washington D.C. the following week. The school made reservations for a room, meals, transportation, and tickets to several attractions for you. Because you forfeited the trip without giving us advance notice, the school was forced to absorb that cost."

Lindy looked away. She'd completely forgotten about that trip to D.C. She'd been overwhelmed by so many things—recovering from her fall from the fire escape, the fear of Victor coming for her, and finally her father telling her that she had to give up her life to live with a total stranger—that the trip was the furthest thing from their mind. Not that she could explain any of this to the dean. It was only the issue of getting his money that mattered to him.

"How much?" she asked softly.

Dean Pibner gave his computer screen a casual glance and answered, "$850."

It took Lindy's breath away momentarily. She couldn't come close to being able to pay back that amount. All the money she had had gone to the Machu Pichu trip, which was non-refundable. Any of the remaining funds her father had were now going towards paying for his rehab.

For a moment, she considered asking Kyle. $850 would be nothing to him, and she knew he'd help her if she needed it. But pride held her back from embracing that idea. She wouldn't ask him – she didn't want to take advantage of their relationship in that way.

It was possible that if she could quickly sell off everything in the apartment she and her father shared, she might be able to pay off her account. But the look on Dean Pibner's face told her that he wanted his money, sooner than later.

"Is there any way I could pay this back in…installments?" Lindy asked, her voice becoming small and desperate.

The dean shook his head. "I'm sorry. The money is due now."

"But, Dean Pibner, what happened to me—"

"That is not the issue, Miss Taylor. The issue is your shirking of your responsibility to this school—"

And suddenly he stopped short. His face went slack and his eyes glazed over, as if he were about to have a seizure.

Lindy frowned in confusion. She leaned forward, looking at him closely, then waved her hand in front of his face. "Dean Pibner? Dean Pibner, are you all right?"

A second later, the man blinked, looked at Lindy, and smiled. "Then again, I do understand that unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances can occur. I will dismiss this outstanding balance and close out your account. If you'll see Angela on your way out, she'll make the arrangements for you to receive your transcripts."

Lindy narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What—" She looked around, behind her, into the hallway, and caught just a glimpse of Kendra's greenish-blonde tresses and long, black coat, floating around the corner as she stalked away.

After grabbing the transcripts from the secretary, Lindy raced to catch up to her former classmate. "You didn't have to do that," she called out to Kendra's retreating back.

Kendra stopped and slowly turned around. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Kyle told me what you did to him, so you can drop the act. I know what you're capable of."

The witch smiled like a painted porcelain doll. "Do you now? Well, if you know so much, then you should know that you don't want to get on my bad side." She began to turn away.

"Thank you."

Kendra turned around again when she heard this. Lindy added, "I had no idea what I was going to do about that debt, so I appreciate you doing that….whatever you did."

"What's wrong, Lindy?" Kendra asked, scrutinizing her classmate's sad face. "You purged the assholiness out of the handsome prince, and won his heart too. You should be happy."

"I'm glad that Kyle has his life back, and I want to be happy with him," Lindy replied, surprised to find herself confiding in the girl who had cursed her love in the first place. "But…I fell in love with the scarred, tattooed boy who took me into his home." She looked at Kendra sadly. "I miss him. That's sick, isn't it?"

Kendra shook her head. "No, it's not. You just have to realize that he's still with you. But that's not the only thing, is it?"

Lindy looked away. "No. I mean, I knew Hunter had money, lots of it. And it didn't faze me because…I felt like he was just as alone as isolated as me. But Kyle has his looks and his life back. It's terrible for me to say this, but…I felt like while he was scarred…I at least had some sort of advantage. But now…" She trailed off.

"But now you feel like less of an equal," Kendra finished for her. "Can't you see you're worthy of that love? Lindy, you're a beautiful person – inside and out. Why do you think I sent Kyle to you?"

She was confused at first, and then it dawned on her…the day of the Green Committee speeches. Kendra had defaced Kyle's election posters, and then called attention to Lindy. If she hadn't, Kyle would never have noticed her. It was Kendra who had cursed Kyle, but she'd also paved the way for him to break the spell.

Kendra laid a comforting hand on Lindy's shoulder. "You'll find your way. Just don't take anything for granted…lest I have to teach you a lesson too." She winked at Lindy and walked away.

Lindy knew that Kendra meant the warning, but nonetheless she smiled as she looked at the transcripts and the receipt of account closure in her hands. Sparing the quickest of looks around the common area of her former high school, she left Buckston behind her for good.

* * *

"Lindy! God, where have you been?"

Lindy smiled uneasily at Mike, the coordinator at the clinic that she used to work for. The only warning she'd given him that she wasn't going to be back was a hasty voicemail left on his cell phone right before she and her father left for Kyle's house. She'd always felt guilty about that, but she couldn't risk contacting him. He was one of the few people in her life who knew the extent of her father's problems. She feared that Victor would come after the people she cared about; Mike was better off being in the dark.

Now, she could tell him the truth. "I've been in hiding," she said candidly. "My father pissed off the wrong man, and he promised to come after me. A…friend…has been looking after me."

Mike shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Lindy. I had no idea."

"I know. That was the point. I didn't want to risk you getting hurt."

Mike blushed beneath his red beard. "So…are you coming back to work?"

"I'd like to, but I have some things to take care of. I was actually hoping that you could help me clear out my dad's apartment."

"Clear it out," Mike repeated. "So that means…your dad isn't coming back?"

"Rehab," Lindy said simply. "I can't keep paying for our apartment. And I wouldn't. It's not my home anymore."

"So, home is with your…friend now?"

Lindy looked past Mike with a smile. "I think it will be."

Going through the things in her dad's apartment with Mike made her realize how little there really was, and how long she'd tried to ignore his addiction for the sake of her own sanity. There were things missing, china and flatware and vases and paintings and books that she'd remembered seeing over the years that were now gone. Lindy had never realized how much her father had sold off to pay for his addiction until now.

At least he'd left her stuff alone – he was decent enough to do that. Lindy packed up as much as she could into several large duffle bags she had, and then too realized how little she herself owned. Just her clothes, books, posters, a little bit of jewelry. She tried to remind herself that it wasn't things that made up a person's worth; it was the relationships that were made in one's life.

Mike had a friend who was a furniture dealer, and made arrangements for him to come over and take away the good pieces at a fair price. Lindy's friend was going through the drawers of a bureau in the living room when Lindy finished packing her own things. He turned to her sadly. "Are you sure there isn't anything you want to keep?"

She shook her head. "I won't need any of this stuff where I'm going."

Mike opened the last drawer and found a white satin box. Dutifully he handed it to Lindy. She felt her heart leap for a moment when she opened it and saw what it was. Inside were keepsakes from her parents' wedding. She found the engraved silver cake server and knife, tucked neatly on one side of the box, along with a copy of the wedding invitation, and dried rose petals from what was either her mother's bouquet, or her father's boutonniere.

She dug further, and found a small framed photo of the two of them, posed under an archway of flowers at the church they got married in. She ran her thumb gently over her mother's shy, smiling face. Her father had always told Lindy she looked like her mother, but she didn't see it until now. The two of them had the same shaped nose, the same thin, wide mouth. Same eyes.

Lindy turned her eyes just to the right, to her father. There he was, younger, happier, healthier – and looking just as shy and scared as her mother. He had his arm around her, holding her close, as if he were afraid that someone was going to come and take her away from him.

There was so much promise in his face. Lindy was sure that the man she was looking at in this photo never would have dreamed that he'd end up making the choices he did, just a few years later. Then again, his breakdown would seem to be a testament to how much he loved his wife.

It was a secret fear of Lindy's – she had to admit it to herself now. As much as she loved the idea of romance, of roses and handwritten love letters, the actual devastation the loss of love could bring terrified her. She looked at that photo and could easily see herself and Kyle in the place of her mother and father. Could what happened to her father and mother happen to them?

"Do you need some time?"

Being lost in her own thoughts, Mike's voice startled her and the box tilted in her hands. A tiny clink was heard as something dropped from the corner, and Mike quickly ran to the corner to rescue the source of the sound.

He held the small, glittering circle in between his thumb and forefinger. "It's a ring," he told her.

Lindy took it from him, examining it in her palm. "It's my mother's wedding ring." She felt the beginning of a tear begin to make her eye itch. "I…remember asking my dad if I could see it a few years ago, and he told me he'd had to sell it in order to pay the rent. I was so angry at him I didn't speak to him for three weeks." She gave a half-sob, half-laugh. "Why did he lie to me?"

Mike shrugged sadly. "Maybe it was easier for you to be angry at him than to have to dig up this box and remember her."

Mike's friend arrived shortly after that. He took most of the non-essential furniture, leaving behind Lindy's bed, nightstand, and a table and chair, and gave her what she considered a generous sum of money for it. He told her to call him when she was ready to sell the rest of the stuff in the apartment.

Mike turned to leave. "Are you going to be okay here by yourself?" he asked.

Lindy laughed. "Yeah. It won't be too much longer." She hugged him. "Thanks for everything, Mike."

He looked down at her with a worried look. "Look, Lin – I know it's none of my business, but…this friend of yours, the one you're going to live with…is he a good guy? Do you trust him? I'm only asking because I know you've been through a lot, and…you know, you deserve to be happy…"

She smiled at her friend. "I trust him. It's going to work out, I'm sure."

Not more than five minutes after Mike left, Lindy's phone rang again. She pounced on it, thinking it was Kyle.

Instead, her Uncle John's sharp, slightly nasal voice met her ears. "Linda? Uncle John."

"Hi Uncle John." Lindy hoped the disappointment wasn't too palpable in her voice. Dutifully she asked for an update on her father.

"The rehab facility has been giving me updates on him, but I haven't been able to talk to him personally yet. It's part of the whole process, I suppose. Detox."

Lindy nodded. "But he's doing okay?"

"As well as can be expected. He's…going to be there a while, hon." He'd never called her "hon" before. "I was calling to see what your plans are. Your aunt and I would like you to move in with us. You can finish up school with your cousins – and visit your dad on a regular basis. When he's out of rehab…we'll all help him get back on his feet."

Lindy took a deep breath before she answered. "Thanks, Uncle John, but I've made other plans."

Her uncle soon fell into a half-hearted attempt to change her mind, which Lindy only partly listened to. She'd already made up her mind to live with Kyle, but she'd only just realized what that meant. It meant she was letting go of her duty to her father: to take care of him, to look after him. To put up with his lies and his excuses, to cover for him when he missed work or keep the drug pushers away. He'd always be her father, of course. But her life was taking another course, away from him.

And she was finally beginning to accept that it was okay.

Finally, she cut her uncle off. "I'm really grateful, but I've made up my mind."

"All right," he said reluctantly. "But…you will come to see him when he's allowed to have visitors, won't you?"

"I will." She owed her father that much. She hoped by the time he was allowed to have visitors, he'd also be able to see that she needed her own life. She wanted to see a new man when she looked in his eyes. Someone who could be happy without the drugs, who was no longer selfish and thoughtless. She hoped to see a little bit of the young guy in the wedding photo, who still believed in himself.

By the time she hung up the phone, she realized the windows of her apartment had gone from gold to black. It had been a long day, and it wasn't until then that she realized she was exhausted.

But she couldn't go to sleep. Not yet. She needed to talk to him. She needed to know that it hadn't been all a dream – that there had, in fact, been a curse, that Kyle was Hunter, that he still loved her. The further apart she'd been from him, the more unreal things that begun to seem.

She dialed him, listening to the phone go from one ring, to two, to three. She was about to hang up, knowing that he wasn't going to answer. But at the fourth ring, there he was, sounding like he'd been awakened from his sleep.

"Huhlo," he muttered.

"Hi," Lindy replied, feeling guilty, but also happy. Even though his appearance changed, she'd know that voice anywhere.

"Hi," he replied, now sounding much more awake. "Are you ok?"

"I am. I woke you, didn't I?"

"No," he told her, but she knew he was lying. "No, I hadn't quite gotten there yet."

"How was your day?"

"Busy, I guess. Went to see dear ol' dad."

Lindy felt her heart speed up for a second when she heard this. What would his father say when he saw him? Would he accept him with open arms? Apologize? She knew how badly Kyle had been hurt by his father's neglect. She couldn't help but be curious about how it went between them.

"And?" she asked.

Kyle's report came to her mechanically, matter-of-factly. "He was too busy to argue with me. We have the apartment for another year."

It was then that Lindy realized who Kyle's father was: Rob Kingson, the famous news anchor. That's how Kyle had described him during his green committee speech. She conjured up his face now, having seen it hundreds of times on the evening news. Dark and handsome, a meticulously practiced expression of gravity when reporting on the most dire of news stories. The sparkling smile that had won the network three awards over the last five years.

She could see now where Kyle's vanity and arrogance had come from. Naturally, being in the glaring lights of the television cameras, Rob Kingson would have valued appearance over everything else. Naturally too, he shut his son off from the world when he could no longer live up to those expectations.

When she thought about it, though, that had been one of the things that had united the two of them: their screwed-up dads. But, at least Kyle's father had enough money to throw around to let them do what they planned and not be bothered.

"That's good," she replied with a sigh. "I can't wait to come home." For truly, the apartment in Brooklyn was the closest thing she could call to a home at that point in her life.

"When do you think that'll be?" Kyle asked. Lindy could hear the desperation in his voice. He missed her, and it felt good.

She laughed, thinking of the bittersweet day she'd had. "Pibner was more than happy to see me go, so all that's left now is getting rid of the stuff in my dad's apartment. Fortunately, he'd sold most of the good stuff to pay for his, ahem, hobby."

Kyle didn't say much to this. In fact, he got a little quiet. Perhaps Lindy had said too much. Perhaps he'd been in denial about all of the problems in her life because she had been the only one who had seen the real him – both as handsome, arrogant Kyle and hideous, wounded Hunter. Maybe he didn't want to think about where she'd come from.

Lindy added quickly, "My uncle John has decided to help him get back on his feet after he's done in rehab." She wanted him to know that there was hope to her father's recovery, that he wouldn't be a noose around their necks for the rest of their lives, begging, borrowing, and stealing from them in order to pay for his habit.

She decided to tell him something else, something that hadn't been of great consequence for her, but would perhaps show Kyle that she wasn't desperate. "He asked me…if I wanted to move up to Great Neck and live with him and my aunt."

"But you said no…right?" Lindy could hear the plea in his tone. He didn't want to lose her.

She assured him, "Of course I did," then quickly changed the subject. "Did you find out anything new about the GED?"

Kyle relayed to her what Will had told him about the next test. Lindy realized that they only had a few months to prepare, that it was going to be grueling, trying to cram a year's worth of knowledge into just a few weeks. Still, this was something that they both needed to do for themselves, and she knew they would be able to get through it together.

"I'm gonna come home as soon as I can," Lindy whispered. "I promise."

"I'll wait as long as I have to," he told her.

It warmed her heart to hear him say that. She looked around the now-bare apartment and desperately wanted to leave. She felt the scar on her hip burn again, as if it were warning her, curbing her enthusiasm about her new life. It was out of her hands, she knew that logically – but nonetheless she resolved that it would not burn once she was home, with Kyle.


	4. Chapter 4

Kyle awoke to a twinge of pain in his left shoulder. He clasped at it, remembering that one of the wooden planks had fallen on it yesterday while he was constructing the new and improved greenhouse. Slowly he pulled himself up into a sitting position in his bed. It was a large bed – a queen size – and too big for one person. It would have been his father's bed – had he ever actually lived in the apartment with Kyle. But he didn't, and Kyle soon realized that Rob wasn't coming back. So he saw no harm in taking it as his own.

Kyle thought again about how big the bed was. He wondered what it would be like to share it with someone else.

He thought of Sloan – strangely enough. They'd done it in her room afternoons after school, with the bedroom door locked and the music on her IPod turned up as high as they could make it. They'd done it in his room some evenings, door merely shut, because his father was never at home and Zola always left promptly at six. They rolled around together in each other's beds, but they never slept together – in the literal sense. They never even cuddled in bed together. Sloan always said it was because her parents and their help were always at her house and she feared they would catch them, and she always complained that Kyle's bed was too small. Of course, Kyle now realized Sloan's reluctance was, in part, her well-concealed disgust with him. She was with him because of the stature it gave her in Buckston – nothing else. Kyle couldn't believe he'd never been able to see it until now.

When Lindy came back, he wondered if she'd be willing to move into his room.

When he was dressed and came downstairs for breakfast, he could hear Zola's laughing voice, chattering about her plans for when her children arrived. He could see her as he approached the kitchen, and he assumed that she was talking to Will.

Zola heard his approach, and turned to smile at him. "Good morning. Look who's home."

Kyle peered into the kitchen and found Lindy leaning against the counter, a coffee mug in her hands. She smiled shyly when she saw him. She looked tired, worn down by her responsibilities. Eyes dark and shiny with exhaustion. Hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her shirt and jeans wrinkled. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Without a word, he crossed the room and engulfed her in a hug. Her arms came up slowly, clasping his neck and shoulders. He felt the ache from his injury where she was touching him, but he didn't care. Lindy was in his arms; that's all that mattered.

"Fun time's over, lovebirds," Will called out as he joined them in the kitchen. He looked taken aback when he saw Lindy. "Lindy! For some reason, I always pegged you as a redhead."

Lindy and Kyle looked at each other with a smile. "Congrats on getting your sight back, Will. And it's funny – I always wanted red hair," she told him.

"Maybe in your next life," Will replied. "Anyway, as I said, fun time's over. We have a lot of work to do, and very little time to do it. Kyle, fill the tank and then meet us in the living room." Without waiting for an answer, the tutor left his students in the kitchen.

"Crack that whip," Lindy joked to Kyle. "It's what we need, though."

He nodded. "I know. He's been too easy on me for too long." He cupped his love's chin in his hand. "I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

Lindy smiled and touched his hand. "I missed you too. But go on, eat some breakfast. It's going to be a long day."

Will wasn't exaggerating. The moment Lindy and Kyle sat down, he walked them through the requirements of the GED, the five sections they would be tested on and the amount of time they'd be given for each one. The best thing to do, Will decided, was to give the two of them a full sample test to assess their skills.

It took them the whole day to take the test: 8 hours, not counting the hour they took for lunch and two 15 minute breaks that Will allowed them. Kyle had never been pushed so hard intellectually his whole life. As he slowly wove his way through the test, working to edit professional letters and resumes, balancing chemical equations, and guessing as to when the Battle of Gettysburg occurred, among others, he realized how far he'd gotten in his life based on being the rich, popular, good-looking son of a famous news anchor. Not only did he have his socially-challenged classmates falling over themselves to do the difficult assignments for him, but many of his teachers as well.

The old cliché was accurate: he really had done himself a disservice having the work always done for him.

When the test was finally done, the two of them were exhausted. Will brought them over some dinner that Zola cooked, and told them he'd evaluate their tests and have their results later in the evening. Kyle felt like most of the energy had been drained out of them, but nonetheless he tore into his food like he hadn't eaten in days. He and Lindy found themselves going to bed not too long after that, both mutually amazed by how little energy they had after that.

Will wasn't any more merciful after that first day. His assessments of Kyle and Lindy's tests were brutal; Lindy's skills in math and science needed work, while Kyle needed work all over.

"I don't get it," Will said, looking at Kyle's results. "Your dad gave me copies of your grade reports when he hired me so I'd know what skill level you were on. I mean, I know you haven't really studied in a year, but…"

Kyle felt the blood drain from his face. Lindy was looking at him. He cursed Will in his head for saying it in front of her – even if it were the truth.

Will pressed. "What is it, Kyle?"

"Well…when your father is famous, everyone is willing to…cut you some breaks. Not just the other kids, but your teachers, and the administrators…" he trailed off.

Will looked at the results again sympathetically. "Well, we'll work on it. You two need to brush up on your skills, but you're not a lost cause. Go on, get some rest. We'll take this up again in the morning."

Kyle followed Lindy as she made her way down the hall to her room. "Lindy!" he called out. She turned around.

"Lindy…about what I told you and Will. I want you to know that-that I'm not proud of my dad letting me get away with stuff."

She nodded. "I know, Kyle."

He looked away, at the bare walls of the hallway that should have been decorated with the photos of a happy family and friends, but weren't. "It's weird, you know. Up until last year, I thought I was living the life that people would kill to have. I basked in it, threw it in people's faces. And now…I'm ashamed of that life. I wish I could just…erase it."

Lindy leaned against the wall, the pale light of the ceiling lamp softening her already delicate features. "I think we're all ashamed of things in our lives. Some things we did to ourselves – and then there are some that just happened to us. But that's not what matters."

"Then what does?"

"What matters is what we do afterwards."

He wanted to tell her to move out of the attic bedroom, to bring herself and all of her things into his room and they'd make it their room. He wanted to tell her how he ached for her.

But he missed his chance. She'd said good night, and was climbing the stairs.

* * *

One afternoon, during one of their breaks, Kyle wandered up to the greenhouse. He hadn't seen where Lindy went, and thought she might be up there. By now the greenhouse was fully rebuilt and full of roses. It made him smile to see them again, all of the different colors. He couldn't believe he'd ever torn it down.

"Oww!"

Kyle quickly ducked into the greenhouse, finding Lindy hopping on one foot, coming to lean on the iron sitting table.

"What did you do?" he asked, putting an arm around her.

She sucked in her breath. "I think I got some thorns in my foot." She laughed wryly. "Walking barefoot up here – just goes to show my brain's been fried by all this studying."

"All right, come on. Let's go downstairs and get them out." Kyle effortlessly lifted her into his arms.

"Oh, you don't need to carry me," Lindy protested.

"How else are you going to get down to your room?" Kyle argued.

Lindy clung to his neck as he climbed down the steep ladder to her bedroom and whimpered. Kyle chuckled. "We'll be fine. I've done this before."

"With who?" Lindy asked in disbelief.

He smiled at her. "You, dummy. Don't you remember when we stayed up until dawn? You fell asleep in the greenhouse. I carried you to bed. How do you think you got down here?"

She blushed and looked away. He set her down on the bed and went to the closet one floor down to get the first aid kit. He pulled a chair in front of her and sat down in it, pulling her foot into his lap. He cleaned the excess dirt off of her foot with a damp cloth first, so he could more easily see where the thorns had embedded themselves in her skin. As the cloth touched the wounds, Lindy inhaled sharply.

Kyle looked at her guiltily. "Sorry," he said.

She shook her head. "Has to be done." She looked at her foot in his hands. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yep."

She gestured to her face. "When you had the-the scars, did they hurt?"

Kyle paused what he was doing and looked at her. Her question came as a surprise to him; she'd never seemed curious before. "No," he told her. Her foot now clean, he reached down into the first aid kit and found a pair of tweezers.

She winced again as the first thorn came out. "Why me?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, you were there when Victor threatened us and you made a deal with my dad to take me. But why? We barely knew each other. There had to have been a bunch of other girls you knew better."

Kyle chuckled lightly under his breath. "I'd been following you for a couple of days before the Victor thing." When he saw her confusion, he continued his explanation. "I spent the summer after Kendra worked her voodoo on me, just hating life. The first time I left the house was for Halloween, figuring that the slash-face would blend in at the Buckston party. Kendra told me to find someone who could see better than I can, and…I found you."

Lindy smiled, then flinched as Kyle removed the second thorn. "You were the one I talked to about the death of romance." _And the shot of life_, she thought to herself.

"You made me smile that night. I hadn't smiled in five months."

"It must have been strange. You know, hearing people talk about you as if you were someone else." Lindy remembered the conversation they later had in that same room – about the handsome guy from her old school that she _didn't_ fall for.

Kyle didn't answer. He was searching her foot, looking for any remaining thorns. His fingers traced the pads of her toes, running down the soft instep to circle her heel, again and again and again. Lindy was surprised to find that he didn't make her ticklish. Normally her feet were so sensitive that even she could barely touch them. But Kyle was different somehow. His fingers were warm, probing. She didn't want him to stop; she wanted more.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Lindy decided to ask him another question. "Did you ever want to tell me who you really were? Before you actually changed back?"

By now, Kyle had found the third and last thorn and he pulled it out of Lindy's foot quickly. It hurt the most of the three and she stifled a cry.

"No," Kyle said simply.

"No?" Lindy asked incredulously. "Why?"

He smiled bitterly. "The 'why' changed over time. First, I didn't want to tell you because I hated what I looked like after the curse. I was too ashamed. And then…after I'd fallen in love with you, I didn't want to tell you because…I could see who I'd been. And I hated it."

He was still holding her foot in his hands. She could have pulled it away, but she wasn't sure she wanted to. He balanced her foot in one hand while the other ran itself over the smoothness of the calf of her leg.

Lindy swallowed, her heart racing. "S-s-so…what were you going to do when I broke the spell and I saw it was you?"

Kyle's other hand left her foot and also skimmed its way up the front of her leg, caressing her shin. "I think…there was always a part of me that thought it wasn't going to happen. It hurt, but somehow…it made me feel better too."

"It…made you feel better? To think that I'd never love you?" Lindy whispered in disbelief.

His hands were on her knee now. He scooted the chair a little closer, so her leg rested against his hip. "Can I ask you a question now?" he said softly.

"Yep."

"Do you ever wish I was still him?"

He knew about her doubt. Of course he did; he could see her as well as she could see him. Why wasn't she surprised? She had to show him that she wasn't afraid.

"But you _are_ him." Lindy moved a little closer to the edge of the bed, causing Kyle's hands to move from her knee to her thigh. His fingertips were just under the hem of her shorts. "Aren't you?"

They were coming towards each other, their lips seeking each other out. And just before they touched, a voice called out, "Hey Romeo and Juliet! These quadratic equations aren't going to solve themselves!"

They bent their heads in mutual frustration. "I really hate that guy," Kyle told her.

"He's just trying to help us. And we need it," Lindy pointed out.

Kyle nodded grudgingly, and the two of them abandoned their frustrations and made their way downstairs.

They spent the rest of the day working with Will. Since Lindy needed help on math and science and Kyle needed help all over, Will geared the lessons towards these subjects, touching on mitosis and meiosis and linking it with the math subjects of probability and statistics.

By seven that evening he could see he was losing them, and finally called it a day. Zola started dinner and gratefully accepted Lindy's offer to help cook. Two hours later, the four of them were sitting around the dining room table, the meal successfully eaten and enjoyed.

It was the feeling of family, of togetherness, that struck Kyle as he sat there. These three people weren't blood related to him – in fact, they'd only been part of his life for a year – but he felt more of a connection to them than to anything or anyone else that had passed through his life before. He loved them; he was lucky to have them.

His eyes met Lindy's as she wiped off one of the serving dishes and replaced it in the sideboard. He didn't realize it, but his gaze must have been intense because she blushed and turned away with a smile.

The calm was broken by the ring of the doorbell. Will and Kyle looked at each other in surprise. No one ever came to their apartment.

"I'll get it!" Lindy piped up when no one else seemed to be ready to answer it.

She opened the door, a dish towel still in her hands. The handsome face of Kyle's father met hers.

She recognized him immediately. "Oh! Mr. Kingson!" she exclaimed, caught off-guard.

He smiled charitably at her. "Good evening. May I come in?"

"Of course." She stood aside so he could come in.

He gave her a cursory glance as he walked into the foyer. "I wasn't aware that Zola left. When did you start?"

Lindy's mouth dropped open at Rob's mistake. She sputtered, trying to find an answer.

"Dad!" Kyle's appearance from the dining room saved her from further embarrassment. His arm immediately came to wrap around Lindy. "What are you doing here?"

Rob noticed Kyle's gesture of affection towards the girl and cleared his throat. "I just came to see how you're doing. You're…still looking well."

Kyle's face darkened. His father had remembered what he'd said about his condition possibly being chronic. He came out of curiosity, to find out if his son was still worth his time, or had reverted back to the scarred, freakish burden he needed to conceal.

Remembering the girl on his arm, he conjured up a smile and said, "Dad, this is Lindy."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kingson," Lindy said, holding out her hand.

Rob paused for a moment, seeming to ponder the hand being held out to him, then eventually shook it. "Likewise," he said. He turned to his son. "Kyle, could we speak somewhere in private?"

Reluctantly, Kyle nodded and directed his father into the living room, having no choice but to leave Lindy behind. He saw Will's and Zola's surprised faces as they passed by the dining room.

As Kyle shut the door behind them, Rob looked around the room. "It's nice. You look like you've been doing well."

"As well as can be expected," Kyle replied diplomatically. He didn't want to feel anger or bitterness – not when things were finally coming together for him.

"So…she's your…girlfriend?" Rob pointed to the closed door.

_More than that, much more. More than you could ever understand_, Kyle thought to himself. But for simplicity's sake, he simply replied, "She is."

"And…does she go to school as well?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. He knew his father didn't come all this way to make small talk. "She's getting her GED with me."

Rob's face darkened slightly. "Oh. So it was her idea for you to quit Buckston and do this instead."

Kyle crossed his arms. "What is it you came to talk to me about?"

"I came to see how you are, Kyle. I was worried about you."

"It just occurred to you after a year to come and see me? Come on, Dad. What is it really?"

"I know I haven't been around, but I want to make it up to you. The network is having a banquet on the 12th. Since you came to see me, everyone's been asking about you. I'd like you to attend with me."

Kyle scoffed. "You've been going to these things all my life without me. Why do you want me to go now?"

Rob held up his hands. "Like I said, to make it up to you. Everyone, including the bigwigs, know that I have a smart, handsome son. I want to show you off. What's the shame in that? It's a family-themed event. They want to see happy families. That's the way the network is going. There's a new talk show that I might have a shot at, and—"

"Ah, there it is," Kyle interrupted with a smile. "I'm promotion-bait for you. Well, I wish you the best of luck with that, Dad, but I'm not going to the thing with you."

"But, Kyle, this is a great opportunity for you too! A good-looking guy like you – you might be able to score a modeling position, or a job for a commercial or something. There's good money to be made. And there's more to life than this shabby apartment, or that little test you want to take."

"There's more to life than making money, or being beautiful. I've learned that the hard way. So, thanks, but no thanks."

Rob's eyes narrowed. "It's her, isn't it? She's the one who's poisoned your mind." He walked up to the door and hit it lightly with his fingers, as if it were the person he was speaking about. "Little Miss Food Stamps with her thrift store clothes and messy hair." He turned to look at his son. "She's beneath you, you know that? Where ever did you dig her up?"

Kyle's fists clenched. He tucked them behind his back to control himself. "She's a beautiful person, and I love her. You have no right to say a word about her."

"Oh, Kyle, don't get me wrong – she's a hot little piece, good for a fling, but certainly not worth throwing away everything you've got."

Kyle stormed out of the living room, straight to the foyer and opened the front door, sparing no looks for words for his father. "It's time for you to go," he said to Rob through clenched teeth.

Rob sighed. "Fine. You'll come to your senses on your own." He began to walk through the door, then turned back. "Consider going to the banquet with me. I think it'll open your eyes." And with that, he left.

Kyle slammed the door after him as hard as he could. His heart was racing in his chest, and he was trembling – literally trembling – with fury. He managed to catch his breath in spite of his anger, and slowly made his way into the dining room. But Will and Zola weren't there. The table was cleaned up quickly, hastily, the kitchen tidy but looking thrown together. They must have tried to get everything in order and then quickly leave the scene before it got nasty between Kyle and his father. His friends had always been intuitive.

It was quiet, so quiet in the house. As quiet as it was when Kyle first was banished to the apartment and refused to do anything but stew in his own juices. In those days you could hear a pin drop, and the curse had enhanced his hearing, anyway. Making him not only ugly, but beastly too.

If he was still cursed, he'd still have that advanced hearing. He would have known, even with the living room door closed, that Lindy had been sitting on the stairs outside of the room, hearing the conversation between him and his father. He would have heard her slowly climb the stairs to her room afterwards.

And later, when Kyle went up to Lindy's room, hoping to find her awake, hoping that he'd finally get to ask her to move into his room with him, he would have known that even though she was lying still in bed, covered with a blanket, the sound of her breathing would tell him that she wasn't asleep. He'd be able to detect the sobs in her breathing, without seeing the tears that had dripped onto her pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

After Rob Kingson's visit to the apartment, Kyle flung himself even deeper into his studying. Lindy watched him devote every bit of himself to their sessions with Will, taking notes, asking questions. He studied early in the mornings, before their sessions, and long after as well. He even went to the library on the weekends to keep up his momentum. He was a man on a mission, and Lindy knew that it wasn't just to get the GED; it was to invalidate everything his father had told him.

She didn't mind that most of Kyle's attention had been taken away. She knew it was only for another few weeks, and then they'd take the test. She didn't want to hold him back, or make him feel guilty for what he was doing. In a way, she was glad his attention was so taken up with his studying. That way, they didn't have to talk about Rob's visit.

It wasn't that Rob's insults had hurt her deeply, or even surprised her. She knew what people like him thought about her. She'd had to deal with that all her life. And she knew that he hadn't poisoned Kyle's mind in any way. What it was, really, was his father's candidness. She'd never actually heard anyone put those thoughts into words and say it with the amount of earnestness that Kyle's father said it.

Lindy had allowed herself a good cry that night after Rob left, and she was glad she was discreet enough that Kyle didn't know about it. She cried until she was unconscious, and even then her body was racked with trembling sobs in her sleep. By the morning, however, she felt refreshed, as if she'd bathed in a deep, cool, moonlit pool on a hot summer night. She hadn't cried in a good long while, and it was as if her body had needed it.

In some weird, twisted way, she owed a debt of gratitude to Rob Kingson.

Before any of them realized it, it was the week of the test. In the years after, Lindy would remember those days as being one, long, day, sitting on the beige-colored sofa, surrounded by books, softened by Will's stern but compassionate eyes as he drilled them – and the feeling of Kyle's hand absent-mindedly petting the back of her head.

The night before the test, Lindy couldn't sleep. She lay on her side, watching the glowing scarlet numbers of the clock get higher with the arrival of midnight. It didn't help that her bedroom was the highest in the house, and also the warmest, thanks to the last vestiges of summer. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and went downstairs, hoping that the cooler temperature would help her sleep.

As she passed from the third, to second, to the bottom floor, she could hear the sounds of the television chattering softly in the darkness. As she rounded the corner to the living room, she felt a sense of nostalgia, remembering the first time she and Hunter met face to face.

But instead of Hunter's dark, slumped form in the sofa, it was now Kyle's straight back and blonde head poking up from the back of the cushions. He was reading over one of their study books.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" she called out in greeting.

He turned around and smiled at her. "Just thought I'd look over a few things before I called it a night."

"Remember Will's warning about cramming: does more harm than good." Lindy rounded the sofa and came to sit down next to Kyle.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," he replied, tossing the book onto the coffee table. "So, what's your excuse?"

She shrugged. "Couldn't get comfortable. My room's a little…warm." She felt guilty about complaining about it.

"Ugh, sorry. I hadn't considered that when I made it your room."

"No worries. Only a few more weeks of summer, then it'll get cool again." The sounds of foreign voices met Lindy's ears and she turned her attention to the TV. It appeared to be a Korean program – not unlike the one that had been on the first time she met Hunter.

"Gee, this feels familiar. Do you study well to Korean TV?" she teased him.

"Just background noise. Besides, I've seen this one a hundred times and I know exactly what's going to happen."

"Oh, do you? And that's because you're fluent in Korean, right?"

"Exactly. Just like you are - supposedly."

Lindy smirked and turned back to the set. The program showed a middle-aged man in a gaudy white suit, taking a young girl in a tight tank top and a mini skirt to a jewelry store. As they looked at the showcase of earrings, bracelets, and rings, Lindy couldn't help but notice how precariously close the man's hand was to the girl's ass.

"All righty then, you take Sugar Daddy, I'll take Lil Precious," she said.

"Game on."

They listened to the conversation between the shop keeper, Sugar Daddy, and Precious for a few seconds, then Kyle asked, "So what did she say?"

Lindy squinted at the TV. "She said…'Ooh honey, buy me this necklace! It would look sooo good in my cleavage!'" They laughed over the kewpie doll voice she used to narrate.

"What about Sugar Daddy?" she asked.

Kyle bit the inside of his lip in thought. "He said…'Nothin's too good for my sweet cheeks – as long as you let me fish it out of your cleavage with my teeth!'"

Lindy laughed so hard at Kyle's interpretation that she had to catch her breath. The jewelry store scene abruptly cut to dinner at a restaurant. They watched as Sugar Daddy and Lil Precious walked over to a table together, where a middle-aged woman and a teenage boy were already sitting. Sugar Daddy kissed the older woman on the cheek, then went to sit next to her while Lil Precious sat across the table with the teenaged boy.

Kyle and Lindy looked at each other, confused. "What…?" Kyle started.

They couldn't understand the conversation the four of them were having, but listening closely, they finally figured out that the boy and girl were calling the two older people "Ma" and "Pa."

"Omigod. That wasn't her sugar daddy. That was her…" Lindy trailed off, as the realization hit them.

They both groaned in disgust, then laughed. "Well, at least we got the 'daddy' part right," Kyle pointed out.

Lindy tossed her head back against the sofa and laughed. "True enough."

They smiled at each other, and it got very quiet. Kyle leaned over and kissed Lindy, quickly, gently. That kiss was barely over before they both leaned in and captured each other's lips, only this kiss was longer and deeper. Her hands went to the back of his hair, fingers entwining the locks, while his arms wrapped around her back and waist, pulling her closer to him. The kiss kept going and going, getting more intense as the seconds went on. They both realized how hungry they had been for each other.

Kyle broke off the kiss to pull Lindy onto his lap. He buried his face in her hair, kissing her neck, then resting his lips against her ear. "Lindy!" he whispered to her. The need in his voice, the desire in it, sent shivers running through her. He sounded like a man who'd been denied water, finally getting to quench his thirst.

The world spun before her eyes as he laid her down on the sofa and then lay on top of her. She soon found that she didn't mind his weight pressing on her; in fact, it might her feel safe, protected. He cupped her face in his hands and smiled down at her, and his smile almost felt painful. She'd denied herself access to him for too long. He was always there, waiting for her, being patient as best he could. Knowing, knowing her, knowing that she'd come around no matter how long it took.

Why did it always seem that he knew her better than she knew him?

His hands were slipping beneath her clothes. She sighed and closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of him touching her. It felt like everything had been leading up to this point – from the moment he first spoke to her in the hallway at Buckston. Granted, he was accusing her of trying to embarrass him, but the fact that he was speaking to her – and that she'd surprised him by wishing him luck. And then, just a few weeks later, he surprised her by not only giving her a rose, but taking a picture with her and not taking his eyes off of her.

When she thought about it, their relationship had been one surprise after another: coming into his house, thinking she was a prisoner, then coming to rely on him and trust him and love him. Then finding out the guy she lusted after and the guy she loved were actually one and the same…all surprises woven together, but all together making sense, feeling right, being—

"Oh!"

Kyle's pained gasp shook Lindy out of her thoughts and her eyes flew open. He was looking at her scar, then looking back at her in shock.

_God damn it, she'd forgotten about the scar._

"What happened?" he asked, running his finger over her hip.

She pushed his hand away. "Don't touch it. Just –please, please don't touch it." She sat up on the sofa and straightened her clothes.

"What happened to you?" Kyle asked again.

Lindy chuckled bitterly. "Just a reminder of where I came from." Without another word, she got up and left the room, leaving him sitting on the sofa.

She'd only gotten halfway down the hall when she changed her mind. She stopped, turned around, and returned to the living room where he was still sitting. She sat in the chair across from the sofa – she didn't want to risk him touching her.

Lindy took a deep breath before she started. "Two years ago, my dad and I lived in a different apartment. Not too far away from the one I was living in when you found me. We had a different apartment, and Dad had a different dealer too. His name was Sy. He wasn't like Victor. He buddied up to my dad, acted like he was his friend. My dad used to actually let him come into our apartment. The first time my dad couldn't pay, Sy acted like it wasn't a big deal. The second time it happened, Sy still had that same shark smile on his face, and he told my dad – in the friendliest way possible – that it would be very bad if it happened again.

"One night, I woke up to the sound of glass breaking. I was going to stay in bed, because when my dad would get high, he sometimes broke things because he got clumsy. But then I heard blows and my dad yelling. I knew that Sy had come to collect, and my dad didn't have the money to give him.

I came out into the hallway, and sure enough, it was Sy. I watched him hit my dad. So I came after him from behind. He threw me off of him, and I lost my balance. I collided with a table that had a glass top. It had been one of my parents' wedding presents – a tea table with a swan carved in the wood. But the glass had been broken. That was what I had heard break." Lindy paused in her story for a moment, swallowed, then continued.

"When I hit the table, the glass was jagged. It cut right into my thigh, and as I fell, it cut me to my hip." She stopped speaking, but she didn't look at Kyle. She could imagine the look of horror and disgust that would be on his face.

She went on, not wanting to wait for any sympathetic words. "The neighbors had heard my screams and called the police. Sy left before they could get him. I ran to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. My dad cried at the door, begging me to forgive him, to let him take care of me. But I wouldn't let him in. I tried to take care of the cut myself."

She felt the scar burn as she thought back to that night, going through all of the toilet paper and paper towels they had, her hands stained red, and her father balling at the door.

"You never realize," she added softly, "how much blood you have inside of you until something like that happens."

Finally she brought her eyes to Kyle's. He looked like he was about to cry. She kept going. "I realized I couldn't stop the bleeding on my own, and I had to let my dad take me to the hospital. I promised him that I wouldn't tell the doctor what happened, under two conditions: one, that we move out of that apartment; and two, that he never let any of his dealers into our home ever again. I got 12 stitches that night. Dad kept his promise. I'm glad I didn't ask for something stupid, like that he'd never use again."

Kyle got up from the sofa and knelt in front of her. "Lindy," he said, his voice breaking, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Sitting on the floor in front of her, he looked like a little boy who had just had his heart broken by learning some cruel fact of life. Lindy suddenly felt very old and weary. She took his face in her hands gently. "When exactly was I supposed to tell you? I have lots of stories like that one, although that's the only one where I got hurt. It's the life of an addict's daughter."

Kyle looked away. "You didn't want me to see your scar. You were angry that I saw it. But you had to know I'd see it sometime."

"I knew that you'd see it. I was even going to tell you about it, but then…" she trailed off.

"But then what?" he asked.

"But then…you know…things changed."

He frowned in confusion. "What things cha-" And then suddenly it was clear to him. The scars he'd had as Hunter. Surely if anyone could understand how humiliating a wound that wouldn't heal was, it would be him. He could see how Lindy thought that telling him about her own scar would have helped him to deal with his disfigurement.

But those scars were gone. They were transient marks, reflecting the cuts to his soul that he'd inflicted on himself. And he'd healed himself through his ability to selflessly love. But Lindy…she would have to bear the mark of her father's mistake for the rest of her life. There was no magic spell promising to fix what was broken about her.

And every time she looked at Kyle's smooth, perfect flesh – the flesh of a boy who'd been pampered and protected all his life – she'd be reminded of that.

But Kyle had to try to make things better, in spite of this fact. "Lindy, I love you. Nothing can change that – not where you came from, not a scar, nothing."

She nodded. "I know that. I know, I do." She sighed. "It seems like there's always something between us, doesn't it?"

Kyle shook his head. "Only the things we let come between us."

"And then there's something else around the corner. If it's not my dad overdosing, it's your dad coming over and telling you I'm trash-"

"You heard him?" Kyle's voice cracked in shock. He was so embarrassed that she'd heard.

Lindy shrugged. "Doesn't matter. All the things he said – I already knew he was thinking them from the moment he met me." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "We should get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day."

Kyle caressed the arms around his neck. "But I don't want to end it like this."

She smiled and kissed him. "We're cool. I haven't gotten this far just to lose you now." She pushed him to get him to stand. "Go on. Go on, go to bed. We have to be up at 7 to get to the center by 9."

He hesitated. How could everything be cool, after what she told him? But then again, what else could he do, except trust in her? As he began to walk away, he realized she wasn't walking with him. He turned back. "Are you staying down here?"

"Yeah. Like I said, cooler on this floor. Easier for the sandman to find me," she replied with a light laugh. "I'll see you in the morning."

And Kyle realized there was something else he could do. "No," he told her firmly. "I'm staying with you."

She smiled at him. "Kyle."

He shook his head. "No. I won't sleep without you. If you want me to get some rest, then I'm staying here."

It look Lindy a while to adjust to the feel of his chest against her back, the hardness of his arm under her ribs as they shared the sofa. She probably would have been more comfortable alone in her own bed, even in the heat. But she couldn't leave that sofa even if she wanted to. She needed to believe that everything was going to be okay between them. She shut her eyes tightly and forced herself to sleep.

* * *

That's how Will found them in the morning when he went to get them up for the test. The two of them, crammed onto the sofa, arms and legs hanging awkwardly off the side, heads and necks twisted at odd angles in order to accommodate each other – fast asleep. Their bodies were under great strain, but their hearts and minds were at peace.

He guessed that this was what real love was supposed to look like.

* * *

Will and Zola dropped Kyle and Lindy off at the center a half an hour before the test started and promised to be there at 5 when they were done. The GED was eight grueling hours. But Will had prepared them well. As he went through the exam, Kyle found himself pulling the answers from his memory with fair ease. He was grateful now to Will for being so hard on him.

The only trouble was, he soon began to get tired. Unfortunately the testing center they chose required them to take the whole test in one day, instead of being able to break it up across several days. By the time lunch came around, his mind felt blown. As he stumbled out of the testing room, exchanging looks of mutual sympathy and exhaustion with others, he hoped that Lindy might have retained a little more energy than he.

There were restaurants lining the street that test center was on, but Kyle and Lindy didn't need them. Zola had packed bag lunches to take with them. At that moment he was grateful for the motherly gesture, because he felt so mentally drained by the test that he didn't think he could even make the simple decision of choosing a meal from a menu.

But now he couldn't find her. They had been assigned their seats alphabetically, so the instructor had put her several rows back from him. The room had been crowded, and when the lunch break was called, the other test takers flooded from the room, pushing him along with them. So he took a seat under a large and rather lush oak tree, hoping she'd find him.

He dug his hand into the brown paper bag and pulled out a sandwich. Absently he bit into it while he scanned the scene, trying to find her.

"She was checking her voicemail inside," Kyle heard a heavily accented voice say a few feet away from him. Kyle turned in the direction of the voice and saw an Indian boy, about his age, biting into a piece of naan and smiling.

"Oh! Thanks." Kyle was a little surprised by the comment.

The boy must have sensed Kyle's surprise, because he added, "I saw you kiss her before we had to start. It must be…comforting to have your wife with you."

Kyle laughed. "Thanks, but we're not married yet."

"Ah." The boy nodded as he finished the last of his naan. "I am not married either. I will be going home after I pass the exam to do so. Our families have been kind enough to put off the wedding until I finish this."

Kyle's chewing slowed down as he contemplated this. "Your marriage was arranged, right?" He hoped he wasn't going to offend the guy, but he was curious.

"Yes, it was. I know how that must sound to…someone outside of my culture. But I have met the girl I'm going to marry. She's lovely. I'm sure we will be happy."

Kyle didn't comment after that, instead trying to focus on eating his lunch and looking for Lindy. But he was thinking of what the guy told him. Could anyone really be happy, having someone chosen for them? He was sure that if he pressed the issue, the boy would argue that he and his wife would learn to love each other. That even though the choice was taken away, they'd still find themselves at the end wanting no one else.

But then he considered something else: Lindy's choice was taken away from her too. She had to live in a house in which her only options for love were another woman, a man too old for her, or a boy her age who was so disfigured that he couldn't bear to leave the house. What else could she do, but fall in love with Kyle? She learned to love him.

And, perhaps, in a way, Kyle's choice was taken away from him too. There were irresistible forces that put them together. Not tangible, overt forces, but more like fate. Zola happened to buy a white rose instead of the orchid that Sloan wanted, giving him the chance to talk to Lindy and give her the rose. And that spurred them to take a picture together, burning her face into his mind.

And when he went to the Halloween party, she just happened to be walking by when he kicked those boxes, making her stop to talk to him. And she happened to drop her glasses, so that Kyle could pick them up and see through them, finally finding the person that, as Kendra put it, "could see better than him."

And after he started following her, he just happened to be there that night, to save her from Victor and his brother. And those horrible circumstances had allowed him to lay claim to her, in the hopes that she would be able to see beyond his ugliness and love him. Time was running out. Lindy was his only hope. He didn't have the time to find anyone else.

Fate had arranged them together, Kyle supposed. And they learned to love each other. He looked over at his lunch companion, and gave him a good natured smile.

He felt a hand caress his hair. He turned around to find Lindy standing behind him.

"Hi," she said with a smile. She sat down next to him and opened her lunch, tucking into it quickly as their lunch hour was quickly running out.

"Hey," he answered softly, pulling her gently towards him to kiss her to the side of the head. "How are you feeling? Personally, my brain is oatmeal."

"Ha! Yeah, the same. At least we get an hour off."

"So…where have you been?"

Kyle noticed that Lindy's chewing slowed down after his question – as if she were trying to figure out how to answer. She swallowed gently, avoiding his eyes. "I was checking my voicemail."

"Okay…"

She sighed and smiled at him sadly. "I wanted to wait until after the test to tell you. My uncle left me a message. My dad can have visitors at the rehab center he's in, and he's been asking for me. I've-I've spent all this time trying to figure out whether I wanted to call him back, or just delete it."

Kyle nodded. "What did you decide to do?"

Her eyes were shining with guilt. "I think…I'm going to go see him. Sometime this week."

"Always something between us, right?" Kyle said with a bitter smile.

"Kyle."

"No, it's okay. I know you have to go to him. He's your father."

Lindy leaned over and kissed him. "It's only for a few days, and then I'll be back. I promise."

They had to go back into the testing center shortly after that. Kyle was able to throw himself back into the testing fairly easily, even with the thought of Lindy leaving him again in the back of his mind. But if it were true – if fate was always pushing them together, making it so that their only choice was to be together – then Kyle had nothing to worry about.

He would rather live in a world where all he could see was Lindy than a world full of empty choices.


	6. Chapter 6

Lindy had been staring at a painting in the waiting lounge in the rehab center for thirty minutes, waiting for her dad to finish his session with his therapist. It was one of those generic landscapes, something that Bob Ross might have painted in the 80's, with happy little trees and clouds that always had a friend or two. Usually she wouldn't have given a painting like this a second thought – it certainly wasn't provocative in any sort of psychological, sexual, or political way, so there was nothing to give her pause in her busy life. But, having to sit and wait for her father in the silent, sterile calmness of the rehab center, she found herself thinking about the world of the painting.

There were no people in the painting – just trees and clouds, mountains frothed with snow and everything gleaming in the sunlight. Life was simple here, having no people. No pain or anger, no betrayal or deception. Lindy started to wish she could be there in that painting, just being away from people in that simple, dumb beauty. She could see why such a painting was the rehab center – there was a sense of calm about it.

* * *

Leaving for Great Neck the previous morning ended up being more painful that Lindy had expected. Kyle sat with her while she packed up the last of her things for her trip. He was trying not to be bitter about her leaving. He was trying to be supportive. She knew that; she could see it.

"You'll be staying with your uncle, I guess," he remarked.

"Yeah, they have a really nice Victorian on the edge of Great Neck. Not unlike the house that my mom and uncle grew up in," Lindy told him, then chuckled mirthlessly. "Uncle John's always saying that my mom was beautiful, and there were tons of guys that wanted to marry her. He never seems to have any trouble with saying right to my face that my mother married the wrong guy."

Kyle scoffed. "Sounds like a great guy, your uncle."

"It's only a couple of days. I've been through worse."

"Yeah." Kyle paused, then added, "Like your first couple weeks with me, huh?"

Lindy stopped what she was doing and stared at him. Where had that come from? True, she'd been angry and hurt that her father left her with a complete stranger because he'd screwed up and forced her to give up everything she cared about, but she eventually realized that it had been a good thing for her in the end. She soon came to think of Kyle as being a dear friend.

"It was a little weird in the beginning, I admit. But there was a lot that I didn't understand at the time."

He looked away. "You know I had my reasons for keeping stuff from you."

"Kyle, why are we talking about this right now? You've explained everything to me, and I understand."

"Yes, I did. But…I don't know…you always seem like you're holding back."

And with that, something snapped inside of Lindy's mind. It had been something they'd been dancing around for some time, and part of her had hoped that he'd never bring it up. But, there it was. She stood over Kyle menacingly, and in spite of her petite frame, he found himself leaning away from her as if he were intimidated. "Funny thing about holding back," she replied coolly. "You lied to me for six months about who you really were, and you had everyone else around us lying for you too – including my father." She threw a blouse into her suitcase viciously.

"Another funny thing about holding back: I didn't play into your perfect little plan for me to fall in love with you, so you blew me off and wouldn't take any of my calls! Do you know what it was like for me in that hospital, watching my dad go through withdrawal? Listening to him moan and cry like a baby, begging for something to make the pain go away? All I wanted to hear was the voice of my friend, telling me it was going to be okay, but you wouldn't even pick up your goddamn phone!"

She could barely get out the last words she spoke, her throat was becoming constricted as a sob began to edge its way through her body. She turned away to get something from a drawer.

"And you think it was easy for me – any of this?" she heard him say, and his voice was stiff with anger. She turned back in surprise. She wasn't expecting him to argue back.

Kyle was still sitting on the bed, but his nostrils were flared and his cheeks were beginning to burn red. "I tried to be understanding and supportive – I really tried. And Baby, I'm sorry – but yes, I was thinking about myself too. Thinking that I could be trapped in that scarred body for the rest of my life. I don't think you understand how horrible it feels to love someone so much, and be convinced in your heart that they'll never love you back."

Lindy opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped, suddenly feeling drained. Instead she sighed. "No, I guess I don't." She came back and sat down next to him. "Maybe it's a good thing that I'm going to visit my dad. Maybe we need some time apart."

He didn't argue with her. He walked her downstairs when the cab arrived to take her to the station, kissed her dutifully as though they'd been married for twenty years, and promptly turned back to go into the house. But he looked back before he went in – and Lindy was glad, because if he hadn't, she was sure her heart would have broken right then and there. His look was full of pain. Lindy pressed her fingers against the glass, staring back at him even as the cab pulled away from the curb and he and the house were nothing but dots on the long street.

* * *

Finally Lindy had had enough of looking at the generic landscape painting and pulled her eyes away. As if on cue, the main doors opened and one of the attendants brought out her father. He'd put on a couple of pounds, but also looked exhausted. Lindy felt dread dropping like a stone into in bottom of her stomach when she saw him, but she stood and put on a smile.

"Hi, Dad," she said.

He just stood there and looked at her for a few seconds. At first, Lindy thought she'd made a mistake coming to see him; she thought he was angry or embarrassed to see her.

But before she knew it, he was rushing to her, crushing her to him, picking her up and twirling her around the way he used to when she was a little girl. "Oh, my baby girl. I missed you," he told her.

"Mr. Taylor," the attendant said in a warning voice.

Her father looked back at his keeper with hurt eyes, but obediently put his daughter down. Lindy straightened her clothes and tried to look cheerful. "You look great," she told him.

He smiled. "I'm glad you're here. I'm about to have some lunch. Usually I have it in the dining room, but since you came to visit, we can eat in my room so we can talk, just the two of us."

They walked across the courtyard to get to the adjoining building that housed the dormitories. Lindy walked arm in arm with her father, but she was still very much aware of the attendant walking only a few feet behind them. They passed other patients on the grounds, some sitting in groups talking with a therapist, others doing exercises.

When they got to the dormitories, the hallways were deathly silent. Lindy's father steered her through the winding hallways until they stopped at one of the doors. He gently pulled her aside so that the attendant could unlock the door and open it for them.

Her father's room was clean and sparse – not unpleasant, but lacking character. It felt like a hotel room to her. Floral bedspread, more uninspired landscape paintings, white walls. It could have been anyone's room. She walked in and took a seat at the small table by the window.

"I will bring you your lunch shortly, Mr. Taylor," the guard said before he shut the door behind him.

Her father came and sat down across from her. There was a palpable silence for several minutes as neither one of them knew what to say or how to start. Finally, he said, "I guess you're staying with Uncle John?"

Lindy nodded. "For a next couple of days. We hadn't really worked out when I'd be going back."

Her father looked puzzled, and opened his mouth as if to ask something. But he stopped himself before the words emerged. To Lindy, it seemed like he was trying to work his way to finding something out, but didn't know how to bring up the subject.

When the silence fell upon them again, Lindy decided to try to stay on the same track. "Uncle John said he'd been by to see you a couple of days ago. How was that?"

Her father shrugged. "All right, I suppose. It was generous of him to do that, seeing as how he's never really liked me."

It surprised Lindy to hear her father say that. Then again, being in isolation, away from people, the need to be discreet probably went out the window. Or perhaps seeing a therapist enforced the need to be open and honest about all aspects of his life.

Mercifully, there was a knock on the door, and a different attendant, dressed in a curiously charming outfit of a black velvet vest and white tie, brought in a covered wooden tray. As the man laid it on the table, Lindy's father asked if his daughter could also have a lunch tray too. The man looked uncomfortable with the request, so Lindy quickly spoke up. "Oh no, Dad. It's okay. I had a really big late brunch with Uncle John and the boys. I'm not really hungry, actually." In truth, Lindy had had no appetite since her uncle had picked her up from the station the day before.

Lindy watched her father eat his lunch steadily, though not voraciously. He asked several times if she wanted a bite of anything, and after only being able to refuse, she felt she needed to say something else. "I think you're doing great. I'm really proud of you."

Her father smiled as he chewed his last bite of food. "Thank you, Sweetie. In therapy, I've been taught that it's important to have a goal. Seeing you again is what I've been working towards." Lindy smiled and took his hand.

Her father covered their clasped hands with his free one. "I was thinking of going back to teaching. Maybe starting with something small, like tutoring out of our apartment. It will be good to get back home, won't it?"

Lindy felt her heartbeat begin to speed up. He didn't know that they didn't have the apartment anymore. What's worse, he believed that she was going to go back to living with him. She didn't want to mislead him, but at the same time, she didn't want to upset him and cause a possible relapse. That's how he'd ended up overdosing before. She ignored his text, and being hurt by her silence, the only way he knew to make the pain go away was to use and use and use. She'd have to choose her words carefully.

"Tutoring sounds like a great idea. And I'll be glad to help you get started," she said gently. "But, Dad, we don't have the apartment anymore. I had to break our lease."

Her father's face fell. "Oh, yes. Of course. I guess it would have been too much for you to have to keep paying the rent on your own."

_We were barely getting by, even with you there_, Lindy thought to herself. But she quickly dismissed the thought and maintained her precariously cheerful smile, working once again to steer the conversation to a positive place. "Uncle John said that he'd help get you back on your feet after you're…done. Why not find an apartment in Great Neck and settle here? I'm sure you could get a well-off clientele going in this area."

He nodded reluctantly. Lindy knew that he realized that this was a good idea, but he hated taking any help from his brother-in-law. "That's true. I'm sure it'll all work out – now that we're together and you're free from that monster."

Lindy bent her head and shut her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she prepared for the painful, inevitable conversation about her life with Kyle. "He's not a monster, Dad."

"Not a monster? Did he ever show himself to you? Did you ever see his face?"

"I have. And he's changed. I know it doesn't make sense, but…it's true. He's…changed."

"Oh Lindy. You don't need to defend him to me." Her father leaned in confidentially. "You know he lied, don't you? And he made me lie to you too, because he blackmailed me? I'd never met him before that night. He was stalking you, I think. He was obsessed with you." He shook his head. "I'll never forgive myself for letting him talk me into letting you stay with him." His eyes grew wide with fear and he grabbed her hand. "He…didn't hurt you, did he?"

Lindy shook her head. "No," she whispered. It hurt – it actually hurt to even imagine that Kyle could have ever forced her. She sighed. "Dad, I know that he lied. I know…he didn't go about it in the best way. But he saved my life. He protected me. I'm sitting with you here now, because of him."

It was her father's turn to shake his head. "No. No, he's a liar and a kidnapper. He couldn't find a woman the normal way, so he took advantage of our situation. He's nothing but a beast—"

"Stop it, Dad!" Lindy burst out suddenly. "I've spent all these months with him, and I know him. He's a good guy. We love each other."

And all it once it hit her, like a bullet to the brain. The words she'd spoken: _we love each other._ She'd told Kyle himself that she loved him, but she'd never told anyone else until then. In that moment, their life together became real and validated.

But now her father looked heartbroken. "Lindy," he asked quietly. "Are you saying that after I leave here…you're not coming back to live with me? Are you saying you're leaving me?"

"Yes," Lindy managed to utter. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, holding it out to her father. He looked puzzled, but took it from her.

His fingers stroked the smooth curve of a small gold ring. He gasped as he turned it around in his palm.

"Mom's ring," Lindy told him what he already knew. "I found it when I cleaned out the apartment a couple of months ago. You told me you'd sold it."

Her father began to weep. Lindy laid a comforting hand on his arm, but she didn't back down. "Do you remember how you felt when you married her? Like the whole world was in front of you? Like anything was possible? Like you were free? That's how I want to feel. But if I stay with you, that's not going to happen. You need to live your life, and I need to live mine. I've realized since we've been apart…that I can't fix everything for you. I'd been trying too long."

He took her hand in his. "But I don't know what to do after this."

"What would she think if she saw you now?" Lindy asked him gently. "What would she want you to do?"

Just then, the attendant who'd escorted them to the room knocked on the door and entered. "Mr. Taylor, it's time for your exercises," he told them.

"Give me a minute to say good bye to my daughter," Lindy's father told him. He wrapped his arms around her. "I miss her so much. Even after all these years," he whispered to her.

"I know you do," she whispered back, then pulled away to look at him. "I'll be back tomorrow morning to see you before your therapy session, okay?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Okay." He allowed the attendant to lead him to the gymnasium. He turned around to look at her one last time, and waved. Lindy smiled sadly and waved back.

Fifteen minutes after she got her cell phone back from the rehab center's main office and made the phone call, Lindy was picked up by her uncle. The drive back to her uncle's house was silent and felt cold to Lindy, but there didn't seem to be anything she wanted to or needed to say.

Finally her uncle broke the silence after a while. "Are you all right?" he asked her.

Lindy didn't want to talk about it with him, but she also knew that as long as she was there, she had to depend on him and his family and needed to be as good a sport as she could. So she focused on the positive. "He looks good. We had a good talk. And he seems to have settled in to the rigid schedule they have him on."

Her uncle scoffed lightly as he turned off of the highway. "He's certainly had enough time to adjust to it. But it's good to know that he's finally behaving himself."

Lindy frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

John took his eyes off the road for just a moment to give her a pained look. "Dear, that rehab center we left usually only accommodates patients for a couple of weeks – a month at most. Your father's been there for four months."

"Well, he's been addicted for a long time," Lindy argued. Uncle John sighed at her comment.

"What?" she asked him.

"It's more than just being addicted – I think. There's something else that's happened to him. He's not ready to face the real world." He looked over again at his niece. "I'm sure he'll get there, Hon. You coming out to see him will definitely help."

The rest of the day spent with her uncle's family felt like a haze to Lindy. She watched them all together: her uncle, his wife Beth, her cousins, Jake and Alan, who were only a few years younger than her. They were nice enough people, generous to her and loving to one another. Their conversations at the dinner table were what would be considered typical: discussing their upcoming vacation and Jake's track meet and the strange time they had at a neighbor's recent barbecue.

They'd never had a truly dark moment in their entire lives. Lindy and her father's problems would be just a footnote in their existences: a cautionary tale told around the watercooler at her uncle's office, or a passing story about an unusual weekend spent with a screwed up cousin for Jake and Alan to tell their friends at school. It almost embarrassed Lindy to have people like these know about her troubles. They were her blood family, but in some ways they were more like the people that went to Buckston. It was just easier to keep them at arm's distance.

She went to bed early that night, citing exhaustion. But she lay there wide awake in the overly soft guest bed, thinking about her father. She worried about how her words she'd said to him had affected him – even though they had to be said. He'd always been…fragile to her. That was the word she'd been looking for: _fragile_. Four months in rehab, when the typical time was one month. What did the people there think of him – the doctors and the administrators, even the orderlies? Did they see his weakness the way she did?

She had to talk to him as soon as possible. She knew she couldn't go now; there were very strict rules on visiting times. But she couldn't wait too long. Finally she pushed herself out of bed and went downstairs to her uncle's office, where he was working in spite of it being a Sunday night. She convinced him to drive her to the rehab center on his way to work the next day – that would get her there before nine. He warned her that there would be no one to pick her up for several hours after that, but she didn't care. Transportation was the least of her worries.

She got back into bed, and thought of calling Kyle. By then it was nearing eleven; he'd probably still be awake. She wasn't sure if he'd even want to talk to her after the way things were left between them. She still didn't sleep for several hours, her mind running again and again over what she'd say to her father when she saw him. She picked out the words carefully, rehearsing them to herself and trying to prepare herself for any response he'd have. Finally, very close to dawn, she began to doze.

But her body wouldn't let her stay asleep. She knew she'd have to be up and ready for her uncle to take her to the rehab center. He certainly wouldn't wait around for her to get herself together, since he was already making a huge sacrifice by driving out of his usual way to work to take her. So she dragged herself out of bed, feeling exhausted, and quickly got herself ready.

Her uncle was still in the shower by the time she was ready. She could smell coffee percolating downstairs and hear the sounds of her aunt and cousins getting ready for the day. But she didn't want to join them. Instead, she picked up her phone and dialed Kyle, thinking nothing of the early hour.

Unlike her visit to her father, Lindy had no idea what she was going to say to Kyle. She listened to the phone ring with a pounding heart, each ring making her want to hang up the phone. Finally, his voicemail came on, and she noticed it had changed: "Hi, it's Kyle. Leave me a message and I'll call you right back."

She took a deep breath before she started. "Hi. It's-it's me. Um…I just wanted to let you know that I went to see my dad yesterday, and it went pretty well. He looks good." _God, her words felt so empty._ "I'm about to go back again and see him. And then…" She stopped. She stopped for a good couple of seconds, because something came to her. "And then, I'm coming home." Her voice threatened to crack, but she took a breath and kept going. This wasn't the way she wanted to tell him – not through a mere recorded message – but it had to be said at that moment, no exceptions. It had been building inside of her for too long.

"Kyle, I'm so sorry. You were right when you said I've been holding back. I have because….because I was mad at you for not telling me the truth about who you really were. I loved who you were. I loved Hunter. And after the spell broke, I…felt like I lost him. And I tried-really tried to tell myself that it was still you, but it was hard for me. But everything you've said and done, you've been trying to show me all this time that inside you're still the same person. I didn't see it until now. I'm sorry."

The tears were flowing now, but she just wiped them away and kept going. "Being away from you made me realize…that I never want to be away from you again. My life with you is the only home I've ever known. You're my family." She took another breath to calm herself. "So…I'm coming home today. If-if you get this in time, can you come and pick me up from the station?" She then told him about her planned schedule for leaving Long Island. She ended the call with, "I love you, Kyle. I love you so, so much."

There was a knock on the door right after her call ended. It was Uncle John. "Are you ready?" he asked her.

Lindy exhaled.

* * *

While all of this was happening, Lindy's father was making his own difficult decision. He didn't sleep that night either, the colorless sheets of his bed being more of a reminder of the terrible place he'd put himself in than any sort of soothing tool for slumber. The only thing that provided even a margin of solace was the cool metal of his wife's ring, wrapped about his pinky finger.

The windows of his room had gone from black to greyish-white, symbolizing the first light of day. It also symbolized that he'd made his decision. Creeping out of his bed, he tiptoed to the door and peered through the striated glass.

The hallway was empty, as he knew it would be. Being stuck in this center for the last four months had finally given him an advantage, as he knew the establishment's routine front and back. He glanced over at the puke-green clock on the far wall and calculated where everyone would be at that time. The other patients were asleep – or at least quietly waiting for breakfast hour. Winston, the Barbadian attendant that was assigned his wing at that time of day, was still at the front desk, flirting with Shaune, the receptionist. Dr. March, whose office was the closest to his room, was still at least twenty minutes away, since he commuted from New Rochelle and was not a morning person. It would be in this doctor's office, Lindy's father decided, that he would make the call.

Gingerly he opened the door to his room, padding softly the 50 paces to Dr. March's office. He shut his eyes in prayer that the Elliott March had kept up his typical pattern of forgetting to lock his door on Friday evenings due to his desperate urge to get out of the building and get to his regular poker game. As the knob turned in his hands, he exhaled gently and quickly slipped inside. His timing was perfect, as two seconds later, he could hear Winston rounding the corner, whistling "Tom Dooley." The attendant would start with the room the furthest up the hallway – Angela Parker's room – then work his way down, getting the patients up, giving them their schedules. That would probably give Lindy's father about fifteen minutes to do what he needed to do before Winston got to his room and realized he was gone.

He walked over to the doctor's desk, lowering himself slowly into the black leather office chair. Running his finger over the curved receiver of the phone, he allowed himself a moment to reconsider what he was doing. Then the moment was over and he seized the phone, forcing himself to conjure up the digits to dial.

The phone rang several times, and he worried that perhaps he got the number wrong, it had been so long. But then he heard the voice he was trying to reach. He'd never forget that voice.

"Hello?" it said in practically a monotone.

"It's-it's Taylor," he managed to stammer out.

There was a pregnant pause on the other line. "What do you want?" the voice finally asked, with no masking of its displeasure at hearing from him.

He rubbed his eyes. "I…need you to do something for me. It's important. And…I think you owe me." He hoped his voice sounded steadier than he felt.

Five minutes later, the conversation was over. He'd gotten what he wanted. He sat back in the chair and waited for the rehab's staff to find him. Shaune would have noticed at that point that someone had picked up the phone in Dr. March's office, and the "in use" light would have been on for too long for it to be just a fluke. Just a few minutes later, Winston would notice that he wasn't in his room. Eventually they'd find him – and it would begin.

He kissed the thin gold ring around his pinky and rested his head in his hands. He was thinking about Lindy. For once, he was thinking only of her.

The only way to save her was to break her heart.


	7. Chapter 7

_Note: this chapter takes place around the same time as chapter 6, but from Kyle's point of view._

* * *

He could hear her calling him in the darkness, willing him to her.

_Kyle…Kyle…_

He was on the bottom floor of their house, and he knew she was at the very top, in the greenhouse, surrounded by roses as beautiful as her. He began to climb the stairs, each step feeling agonizing as it meant more time spent away from her.

First floor, second floor, third floor…the ache got stronger and stronger. He needed to hold her, feel her wrapped around him. To be inside of her.

Finally he reached the roof and opened the door to the greenhouse he'd built with his own hands. The night was dark and clear, the sky full of stars. Where the white wrought iron patio table and chairs usually were, there was a bed, draped in pink satin and covered in rose petals of all hues. They represented all the many facets of Kyle and Lindy's relationship: friendship, attraction, sacrifice, romance.

And as he drew closer, he saw her lying on the bed, the curves of her body draped in a white sheet. She lay still, a red rose pressed to her heart.

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her, ready to kiss those soft pink lips.

Except he realized that there was no light in her dark eyes. He looked down and realized that what he believed was a red rose on her chest was actually blood blooming from a gunshot wound.

His heart stopped with hers; he was sure of it. But something forced him to look up from his beloved's body. It was Victor, the man who'd vowed revenge, who'd been looking for Lindy all this time. He was still holding the smoking gun in his hands.

His smile was nauseating. "I told you I'd find her. I keep my promises."

"Bastard!" Kyle screamed out, his eyes flying open. He was looking up at an off-white ceiling. Frantically he sat up, looking around his bedroom as he realized he'd been dreaming. He put a hand to his chest and waited for his heart to stop racing. He then became aware that there were others in this house with him, and he hoped that none of them had heard him.

Panting, he looked at the clock and realized that it was still the middle of the night. He eased himself back into the bed slowly, tensely waiting to see if anyone had heard him and would come to check on him. After five minutes had passed, he realized that his scream had probably been more a part of the dream than something that had filtered into reality.

He dug his fingers in his hair, grateful once more to Lindy for breaking the spell so he had hair to pull on again. Kyle thought about getting up and going to his computer, and once again reading over the police reports he'd been able to get about Victor's arrest. Having a father in the news business came in handy, and Kyle was able to learn exactly what the man had been charged with and his punishment.

Armed robbery, possession of illegal drugs with the intent to distribute, multiple counts of battery and assaulting a police officer – Victor's charges all added up to over 20 years in prison. It could be easily more, should he not get paroled. Kyle was going to keep an eye on the man, of course.

Still, as much as Kyle feared and despised Victor, there was someone else he despised even more. Victor was just a mad dog that had been provoked; it was Lindy's father that had done the provoking through his selfishness, and Kyle would never forgive him for that.

Lindy didn't know that her father had killed Victor's brother.

It was the only condition, the only threat that the frightened man had used on Kyle when he asked to have Lindy stay with him. The two men stared each other down in the filthy fire escape after Victor vowed his revenge and escaped.

"What's she going to think of you?" Taylor had asked Kyle.

At first, Kyle had no snappy retort to the insult. But then he remembered the rapidly cooling body of the dead man lying at their feet and replied, "What's she going to think of _you_? Killing another human being—"

"Lindy can't find out! She can never find out!" her father burst out. "Please. I'll give her to you, but you can never tell her. If she knew—"

"You'd lose her forever," Kyle finished, a thin ribbon a morbid satisfaction running through him. "A little hard to keep something like that a secret, isn't it? She's going to wonder why her life is in danger, when you're the one who owes Victor the money."

But Lindy's father convinced him that she would believe it, if he made up an astronomical amount of money that he owed the brothers. That he'd been cheating them and stringing them along for months, and had convinced them he didn't have anything of value to pay them with. He'd tell Lindy that it was Victor who threatened to take her as payment for the "goods" her father had gotten from them.

Kyle had always felt guilty about knowing this and keeping it from Lindy. But as time went on, he realized that there was no reason to tell her. She was already hurt by her father's actions; why compound it?

It was easy to feel this way while she was with him, in his haven, slowly being won over by the little things he did for her. He was able to let go, at least in part, of his resentment for Daniel Taylor. But it began to build again, starting at the lake cottage. It was the perfect moment, lying together in the lush green grass, Lindy in his arms, looking up at him with a mix of excitement and anticipation. It was ruined by the chirp of her cell phone, her uncle informing her that once again, her father had screwed up and put himself in danger.

The man nearly cost Kyle his chance to become normal again. But everything worked out for him, and Lindy was with him once more.

And then Kyle found out about the scar she'd gotten because her father had put his addiction before his daughter's safety. And that was the last straw.

It made Kyle's blood boil to think of Lindy, _his_ Lindy, scarred and threatened and wounded because of someone who claimed to love her. And what frustrated him even further was her loyalty to this man.

So in spite of his attempts to be supportive and understanding while she packed for her trip to visit her father, his bitterness towards her father came out.

Lindy was admitting to him that her uncle wasn't her favorite person, but that the next couple of days weren't going to be too bad, since she'd been through worse.

"Yeah. Like your first couple weeks with me, huh?" Kyle sniped. Lindy looked surprised and hurt by his comment, and a part of him was glad.

"It was a little weird in the beginning, I admit," she said. "But there was a lot that I didn't understand at the time."

"You know I had my reasons for keeping stuff from you." _Stuff that I still have to keep from you, because your father's too weak to man up to his mistakes._

Lindy looked at him impatiently. "Kyle, why are we talking about this right now? You've explained everything to me, and I understand."

_But you still miss Hunter, don't you, Lindy? _

"Yes, I did. But…I don't know…you always seem like you're holding back." There, he said it. The elephant in the room, the black cloud that always hung over them.

"Funny thing about holding back," she shot back at him. "You lied to me for six months about who you really were, and you had everyone else around us lying for you too – including my father."

This took Kyle by surprise. Lindy had seemed awed and happy when she realized who Kyle actually was, if just a little taken aback. He'd had no clue that she'd thought of it as "lying." Kyle had never really thought of taking on the identity of Hunter as being a lie. He'd fallen into such deep despair in the months following Kendra's curse and was so sure he'd never be the person he was that he convinced himself he had become the thing he looked like.

Lindy's anger didn't end there. She added, "Another funny thing about holding back: I didn't play into your perfect little plan for me to fall in love with you, so you blew me off and wouldn't take any of my calls! Do you know what it was like for me in that hospital, watching my dad go through withdrawal? Listening to him moan and cry like a baby, begging for something to make the pain go away? All I wanted to hear was the voice of my friend, telling me it was going to be okay, but you wouldn't even pick up your goddamn phone!"

Kyle knew that he'd hurt Lindy with his silence during her father's detox, but her bringing it up now only reminded him of how much he reviled her father. No one forced the man to overdose; he hadn't been injured in an accident or attacked. He wasn't a victim; he'd done it to himself. He was a nothing but a self-serving, thoughtless child. And Kyle wasn't going to feel any guilt when it came to him.

"And you think it was easy for me – any of this?" Kyle argued back. "I tried to be understanding and supportive – I really tried. And Baby, I'm sorry – but yes, I was thinking about myself too. Thinking that I could be trapped in that scarred body for the rest of my life. I don't think you understand how horrible it feels to love someone so much, and be convinced in your heart that they'll never love you back."

Lindy opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped and sighed. "No, I guess I don't." She came back and sat down next to him. "Maybe it's a good thing that I'm going to visit my dad. Maybe we need some time apart."

This wasn't what Kyle wanted to hear, but he couldn't find any reason to argue with her. She was going to go see her father, and that was all there was to it. She'd always go back to him.

After Lindy left, Kyle sulked back into the apartment, passing Will, who was standing in a corner with his arms crossed.

"It's nice to see you returning to your roots as a garden variety asshole," Kyle's tutor called out to him. Kyle stopped and turned back to look at him.

"How about you mind your own business?" Kyle asked him. "You've gotten paid for over a year to do nothing, so how about you get to it?"

Upon seeing Will's hurt look, Kyle immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. You're right, I didn't handle Lindy's leaving in the best way. I just…I just _hate_ her father, that's all." He sat down on the stairs and ran his fingers through his hair. "He's put Lindy through hell because he's a selfish, pathetic bastard, and she's still going to go see him."

Will contemplated this, then came and sat down on the stairs with Kyle. "You don't get to choose your parents, man. You of all people should understand this. And you know that this isn't easy for Lindy either. She's only doing what she thinks is right." Will clasped Kyle's shoulder comfortingly. "Why don't you help me run my errands today? It'll take your mind off of being without her."

"You have errands?"

"Ha! Yes. Occasionally I leave the fortress of solitude and venture out into the daylight amongst the natives. Today I've got a couple of appointments with some leasing offices."

Kyle frowned. "Leasing offices? So you're looking for a new apartment?"

"You're not going to need me much longer, Kyle," Will explained with a smile. "You're going to pass the GED, and start applying to colleges. My work is done."

Kyle hadn't thought about it before, but Will was right. He and Lindy were going to be moving on to the next step in their lives, and Will had to move on and find a place where he was needed. When he thought about it, Zola would be leaving too. Now that her family had their green cards, they'd be coming over soon, and she obviously couldn't keep living there with him.

"Have you already found a new job?" Kyle asked his tutor.

"No, but I've got a giganto nest egg saved up, so I should be good for a while. Your father paid me handsomely to tutor you, and even more handsomely to keep my mouth shut."

"Hmph. I bet. We all know how important handsomeness is to Daddy Dearest."

"Aw come on, no sour grapes unless they're being turned into a kick-ass merlot. Let's roll."

* * *

They spent the day looking at apartments around the city. Will thought they were all fairly nice places, but Kyle would have none of it. He grilled the leasing managers mercilessly, demanding to know about the noise level, the age of the building, the demographics. One manager got so frustrated with Kyle's interrogation that he finally conceded that his building wasn't "good enough" to pass his standards. Will tried to reason with him, but Kyle insisted on his questioning.

"I'm not going to have you living in some dump. I don't care if I come across as crazy," Kyle said. "A holdover from my 'spoiled brat' days. But it's for your benefit."

By the time they'd visited all the apartments Will was interested in, it was evening and they were starving. They made their way to a tavern, strangely one that wasn't too far from Kyle's old home with his father, to grab some dinner.

"So could you see yourself living in any of those places?" Kyle asked as they tucked into their burgers and fries.

"You mean even after you ripped them to shreds? Well, I liked the garden apartment at Juniper Meadow."

"Mmm," Kyle agreed. "That was a nice one."

"Dost mine ears deceive me?" Will declared in a British accent, holding his hand to his chest in mock dramatic fashion. "Lord Kingson doth approve of the living conditions his former squire hath chosen?"

"It hath a certain appeal, I shall admit," Kyle replied in a similar accent, then slipped back into his natural voice. "Besides, it's close to the apartment we have now, so I can keep an eye on you." Kyle felt like they were being watched, and finally turned to see a table of two young women taking quick glances at their table and smiling to each other. "Geez, those two girls over there won't stop staring at you. Could they be more obvious?"

Will's eyes grew wide and he leaned forward in surprise. "What, did you catch my blindness at some point? I swear I only used your toothbrush once." When Kyle looked genuinely confused, Will explained gently. "Kyle, they're not looking at _me_. They're looking at _you_. I mean, I've always thought I was a pretty decent-looking guy, but I easily become the Invisible Man when you're around."

Kyle glanced uneasily in the direction of the girls at the table across the way, then quickly turned his attention back to his plate. He'd forgotten what it was like. The old Kyle would have flirted mercilessly with those girls (they were attractive enough, by his standards), perhaps even gone out with them, if he could get away with it without Sloan knowing.

He still wasn't comfortable around people. He still had to remind himself sometimes that the tattoos and mutilated flesh were gone, that he didn't have to hide his face when there were people around. Most importantly, he had to remind himself that it was a face that people would want to see – especially women.

Not that it really mattered now. There was only one woman for him. The one woman who made him feel beautiful when he wasn't.

Will finished the last of his fries and wiped his mouth as he slid out of their booth. "I'll catch you later. There's a dartboard with my name on it." Will ignored Kyle's pleading look and left their table.

Not too long after Will left, Kyle heard a familiar voice from behind his booth say, "Hello, Stranger."

He felt his heart pound. Slowly he turned around and smiled uneasily at her beautiful face. "Hello," he said in an octave deeper than his natural voice, because he hoped it would keep it from cracking.

Without being asked, she walked around and sat across from him at the table. They sat in silence for a few seconds, and then she said, "It's good to see you again, Kyle."

He nodded. "You too, Sloan. How have you been?" His words felt empty, but they weren't forced. Kyle realized that he wasn't hurt by what she'd done anymore.

She smiled, but her face was sad. She gestured to her dark blue tea length gown. "My cousin Danielle got married today. Bridesmaid. That's why I'm in town. I just started at Northeastern."

"Congrats to your cousin," Kyle replied. "And congrats on Northeastern. I thought you had your heart set on the west coast, though."

Sloan laughed uncomfortably. "Didn't get into Stanford like I hoped. But, at least I'm several states away from my family."

"I never knew you didn't like them that much."

"Ha! Well, now that I look back at it, there were a lot of people I didn't like very much. But you do what you have to to get through it."

Kyle felt a twinge of resentment in his heart when he remembered what she'd said about him last Halloween. "And how's Trey?" he asked sweetly.

Sloan's Barbie Doll smile quickly fell. "Wouldn't know. Don't really care. He found out he got into Princeton in March. He didn't really have much to do with me after that."

He shook his head in a mock display of sympathy. "So sorry to hear you two broke up." He didn't miss the look of surprise and fear on her face.

"Y-you know…about us?" she asked in a small voice.

"I've got ears," he said pleasantly. But he decided to follow up with something sincere. "I abandoned you both last year, and I'd never been a good friend or boyfriend up till that point anyway. I don't blame you two for ending up together."

She smiled flirtatiously at him. "I can't believe I ever chose Frog-Face over you. You've changed. I like it."

But Kyle wasn't going to fall into any trap. "Well, you can thank the girl I love for that."

"Oh." She said, her tone falling into bitter. "Well. Anyone I know?"

"Lindy Taylor."

At first Sloan looked like she was about to sneeze. Then she face contorted into a laugh that seemed to burst out of her. She saw Kyle's look of surprise and curbed herself. "Oh, oh goodness, sorry." She sniffled and took a breath. "Well, I have to say that at least she's doing better for herself if she's with you."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, that's right, you weren't there. Last May, you should have seen her. Sucking face with this freak-job full of tattoos and scars. She'd been out of school for like, months, and then shows up to go on the Machu Pichu trip. Then she just runs out of the school to chase after Slash-Face, or whoever the hell he was. Just plain weird. Not that I'm trying to influence you or anything."

Kyle looked at Sloan and realized he'd done the right thing – staying away from her once he was cursed. He'd considered trying to get her to help him break the curse, believing that maybe, in her heart or hearts, she really did love him and could see past the ugliness as if it were a temporary condition. Now he understood that Sloan had once been the perfect girlfriend for him because she was exactly like him. Except it was like she'd said – he had changed. But she hadn't.

Kyle started to make a move to stand. "It was good seeing you again, Sloan. Good luck with everything."

She began to stand as well. "Kyle? Wait! Look, I'm sorry if I offended you. Really. I-I said some really mean things about you after you left, and I see now that I was wrong. I was just…mad that you left the way you had. Please, will you stay a little longer?" When he still hesitated, she added, "I can't go back to that reception hall with all those happy people there. I just – I can't act right now. Please, can we talk just a little longer?"

He sighed. "All right, fine," and got back into his seat.

As they both sat down, the tavern started playing "So Much Closer Now" on the jukebox. Sloan looked around and smiled. "God, I love this song. Remember when we danced to it at the Valentine's Day dance sophomore year?"

Kyle smiled, but he felt disgusting inside. He remembered that all he'd been thinking about that night was taking Sloan back to his dad's loft and finally losing his virginity. He and Sloan weren't exactly a couple at that point, but he'd gone through the Facebook pages of all the girls in their grade, rating them on the three F's: Face, Figure, and Finances. Sloan had rated the highest in his book, so he'd asked her out months before the dance so that no one else could snatch her up. He wanted to make sure she'd put out before he invested the money and time in taking her to the dance.

And he was successful. And it revolted him now.

"Kyle?"

He looked up. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you wanted to dance to it. You know, just for old time's sake?"

He felt like the biggest douchebag in the world at that moment. Who was he to deny her one request? "Sure."

They went out to the small tiled floor near the bar and swayed slowly to the beat of the song. Kyle had his arms around Sloan, and he had to admit, it felt good to hold someone like that again.

"So what are you up to now?" Sloan asked him.

"Catching up. Took the GED a couple days ago. I'll have to start the college application process all over again, since I missed senior year."

"Yes," Sloan looked away. "How um, how was rehab?"

Kyle could see that she, like so many of their other classmates, didn't know what to think of his "rehab" excuse he'd given for leaving school. When he thought about it, however, he _had been_ to rehab. He was being rehabilitated from a disease – an addiction to cruelty to others and an inability to see the beauty in all things. It had been long, and painful, and nothing like what he had been expecting. But he emerged from the experience a better person. And he wouldn't have traded it for anything.

That's exactly what Kyle ended up telling Sloan – in so many words. She looked surprised. She dropped her hands from his shoulders. "You know Kyle, when I first saw you here, I just thought about having a "blast from the past" quickie. I was relieved to see you hadn't let yourself go or anything and I just wanted something to make me feel better. And since you've been so down and out, and I figured I'd throw you a line. But…I think…sleeping with you would just make me feel even worse about myself. You're not the same guy I knew."

Kyle leaned over and whispered in her ear, "You have nothing to worry about. It was never a possibility." He smiled at her wounded pride and left her standing on the dance floor.

He found Will showing off his skills on the dartboard to a group of people. His friend smiled uncomfortably. "Having fun?"

Kyle shook his head. "Not really. You wanna leave?"

"We can. I'd rather end on a high note anyway." Will put down the darts and followed Kyle out of the tavern.

They rode the subway mostly in silence. Kyle swore he could still smell Sloan's Chanel on his shirt, and it made him feel even lonelier than he'd felt before. Lindy didn't wear perfume – at least, not the way Sloan wore it. It was the natural milky-almond smell of her skin that had stuck in his brain and made her irresistible to her. He was having trouble remembering it, feeling drowned in the artificial spices of his ex's fragrance.

Finally Will asked, "So who was the blonde chick you were dancing with? It looked like you really pissed her off."

Kyle chuckled bitterly. "Ghost of Christmas Past."

* * *

He didn't sleep much that night, so instead of fighting in vain, he decided to make the most of it. He wrote letters for Will and Zola, hoping that it would help them find successful employment when the time came to leave him. Before he knew it, it was early morning and the sun was streaming through his window.

He knew Will was probably still asleep, but Zola would be up and having her breakfast. He ventured downstairs, finding his friend in the kitchen with her back to him, stirring a pot.

"Morning," he called out cheerfully.

Zola didn't return the greeting. She stopped stirring the pot, straightened, and said in a stiff voice, "I make oatmeal, if you want some." Without looking at him, she turned and reached into the nearby cupboard to get a bowl.

Frowning, Kyle walked into the room and leaned against the counter. "Zola, what's wrong?"

"Nothin'. I make your breakfast, like I supposed to." She poured out half of the oatmeal and opened a drawer to get a spoon.

Kyle crossed the kitchen quickly and stood in front of her, blocking her way. "Come on. I know you. What's up?"

Zola slowly raised her eyes to him, and he could see that she was angry. "Will tell me last night he see you dancin' with that big-headed flying crappo you used to mess around wit'."

Kyle sighed. "Zola-"

"I know, I know, I jus' your maid, it none of my business," she interrupted, putting up her hands in acquiescence. She turned to go, but Kyle put grasped her gently by the arms and held her still.

"Okay, two things you need to understand," he said firmly. "Firstly, nothing happened between me and Sloan. I don't want her back, and I love Lindy too much to ever do something like that. Got it?"

"Yes," Zola said, looking away.

"Good," Kyle said, releasing her arms. "And the second thing is, you're not 'just my maid.' You-you're the closest thing to a mother I've ever had…and I love you." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Ay ay! See what you do!" Zola said, throwing up her arms and shooing him away while she began to get flustered.

Kyle smiled. "I have something for you," he told her. He reached into his pocket to pull out the recommendation letter he'd wrote for her, but just then, his cell phone rang. "Sorry," he said guiltily.

Zola shook her head. "No, no. Get it, darlin'. It might be Lindy."

Kyle walked out of the kitchen, looking at the number on the cell's display. It wasn't Lindy's number, who knew for sure? Maybe it was her uncle's home number.

"Hello?" he answered flatly, waiting to see if it was her before he'd get too excited.

"It's-it's Taylor," a familiar voice stammered in reply.

It was Lindy's father. Kyle felt his blood pressure rise. It was ironic, truly it was, that for the last few days he'd been wrestling with his feelings for this man, and when he'd finally started feeling some peace, who of all people should call?

"What do you want?" Kyle asked harshly. He wasn't going to give this man the time of day, if he could help it.

"I…need you to do something for me. It's important. And…I think you owe me."

Kyle scoffed. The nerve of this self-centered druggie to not only call him, but to ask a favor. "_I_ owe _you_? Oh, that's rich. And just how do you figure that I owe you?"

"Because you have the only thing that's ever been worth anything to me. She doesn't belong to me anymore, she belongs to you. I see that now."

Kyle felt dizzy and confused for a moment, surprised by Daniel Taylor's relinquishment. "So what do you want?" he asked.

"I need you to come to Great Neck, right now. Don't spare a second. Lindy's going to need you to be there for her when she finds out what I've done."

Kyle found himself clutching the phone in fright. "What are you going to do?"

There was a pause, a sniffle, then a deep breath. "She's never going to see me again."


	8. Chapter 8

"Eleven. Thirteen. Seventeen. Nineteen. Twenty-three…"

Lindy muttered her prime numbers under her breath, hoping Uncle John couldn't hear her as he drove her to see her father. She didn't know why, but dread had settled deep into her stomach – even deeper than it had been the day before, when she first went to see her father at the rehab center.

The feeling became even stronger as the car pulled up over the smooth black driveway and they passed the welcome sign; it almost felt like a throbbing, a pulsating – a muscle that had been overworked. Lindy's hand went to her stomach in an effort to soothe herself.

Her efforts were in vain, however, as Uncle John had to stop mid-way in the curving driveway due to two police cars already parked in the front of the building, blocking the way to the parking lot. Police cars weren't a common sight at the rehab center, but they weren't unheard of either. Lindy tried to reassure herself that there were dozens of reasons why the police were there, completely unrelated to her father. Nevertheless, her sense of dread was elevated like the beats of her heart.

Lindy's uncle parked the car directly behind the second police car and the two walked over to a tall, gaunt man with a NYPD badge affixed to his wrinkled white button down shirt. "Is the center closed to the public, officer? My niece and I are here to visit my brother-in-law," Uncle John asked. Lindy was grateful to him for speaking up immediately. She wasn't sure she had the voice to ask at that moment.

The police detective raised his tired eyes to Uncle John and asked for his name. When Uncle John introduced both himself and Lindy, the detective's eyes became more focused, as if he'd just been dosed with coffee.

"We'll need you to come to the station with us, Miss Taylor," the detective told her. "We have some questions for you."

Lindy felt her heart constrict painfully in her chest. "What's this about? Is it my father? Did something happen to him?"

The man sighed. "I can't give you all of the details just yet. All I can say is that he's confessed to a crime, one that we'd been trying to solve for several months now."

"A crime? This has to be some sort of mistake, officer. My father – my dad – he's been addicted to drugs for years, he often hallucinates, he's—"

The detective held up his hand. "We'll make our assessments ourselves, Miss Taylor. For now, please just accompany Officer Salvucci to the station."

Lindy felt the burly hand of the uniformed Officer Salvucci come to rest on her shoulder. Slowly she began to walk towards the flashing police car, then turned her head back. "Uncle John?" she asked pleadingly.

He nodded. "I'll follow you to the station, hon."

After Lindy was seated in the car, she still had to wait a few minutes before they left. She watched the entrance of the rehab center like a hawk, waiting to see something, anything. She sat like that for twenty minutes, and then…she saw him. Her father, being led out of the building, his hands cuffed behind his back. She knew it was him, she recognized him, of course. But the look on his face, the slump of his shoulders – it all felt like some other man she was looking at. It felt like that spark of hope that had once flashed in his face, the potential of the young man in the wedding photo, was gone.

* * *

Lindy sat in a sickly green-colored waiting room at the police station for what seemed like hours. Her uncle sat with her for nearly a half hour, then gave in and began making and receiving his work phone calls. She tuned out the white noise of his business conversations and tried not to think of anything in particular – not the current situation, or what was to come. That was the best way for her to maintain her control, she'd found. Thinking – dwelling rather – was what could break her concentration. Concentration led to calmness, which ultimately was the root of her control.

Finally the gaunt, tired detective who'd spoken to them at the rehab center entered the room, and introduced himself as Detective Andrews. He sat across from Lindy after he'd offered her something to drink and she declined.

"Please, just tell me what this is all about," she requested.

Detective Andrews rubbed his eyes and replied, "Your father has confessed to the murder of a man named Efran Gutierrez, Miss Taylor. Do you know who that is?"

Lindy's eyes went wide. "He-he's the brother of my father's dealer, Victor. But-but he's dead? When? What—"

"Did he ever confess to committing the crime?"

"No! No, he told me that it wasn't safe for me to stay with him, but…" Lindy trailed off, feeling like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. "Oh no, this isn't true! I know you must hear this all the time, officer, but my father isn't a violent man. He'd never hurt anyone." She looked at her uncle, hoping that he'd support what she was saying. But Uncle John only shook his head in regret.

Detective Andrews sighed, and said as gently as he could, "Your father was able to provide details of the crime scene that were never released to the press. He told us exactly where to find the murder weapon, which we're looking into now. We have no choice but to hold him in custody."

"I see," Lindy replied, feeling as if she were in a trance. "Then what happens?"

"He'll be assigned an attorney by the state, evaluated for his fitness to stand trial, and then the trial process will begin." Detective Andrews leaned forward confidentially. "This is all preliminary, Miss Taylor. I can't tell you exactly what the outcome will be."

"But he's confessed, and all the pieces fit, don't they?" she asked softly. "He's guilty, isn't he?"

"Innocent until proven guilty, in our system," Detective Andrews said with attempted conviction, but Lindy didn't miss the fact that he didn't look her in the eyes completely.

"Can we see him, Detective?" Uncle John asked. "Could Linda speak with him?"

The police officer shook his head. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Taylor made it adamant that he does not want to speak with, or have any contact with Miss Taylor now or in the future."

Lindy felt her jaw drop when the detective told her this. Uncle John put an arm around her. "It's probably for the best, honey. Really."

"I know this is a difficult time for you, but I need to ask you about the night that Mr. Gutierrez was murdered," Detective Andrews said. "You can take as long as you need to recall the events."

It didn't take that long at all. Lindy answered the detective's questions with an almost robot-like efficiency, painting a picture that, happily for her, proved her innocence, but also helped to further incriminate her father. His years of drug abuse, his inability to pay his dealers, his desperation at being cut off from his supply by Victor – it all pointed to his motive for killing Efran.

And Lindy knew that she was helping to put her father away with each word that fell from her lips, but once she started, she couldn't stop. It was as if all the years of neglect and worry and suffering that he'd given her were finally coming to the surface, bubbling over like a rich stew in a pressure cooker. Towards the end of the interrogation, she realized something – this was what he _wanted_ her to do. This was her father, moving towards being the man that Lindy had always hoped he could one day be: a man who took responsibility for his actions.

Detective Andrews was finally done with her. He thanked her for her time, told her that he'd be in touch. She barely registered his words. She couldn't feel the floor under her as she walked, couldn't feel her uncle's arm steering her out of the waiting room and into the station lobby. Only one thought kept going through her mind: _he's gone, my father is gone. My father is gone._

"Linda, hon, let me get you back to the house," a voice said, cutting through her haze.

"No," she heard herself say. "I need to walk." She wrenched herself from her uncle's grasp and kept moving.

_She just needed to walk. That's all she needed to do. If she could just keep walking for the rest of her life, she'd be all right._

She could feel it slipping away. That precious control, honed and perfected over many years. Control that saved her when her father squandered their money and she had to go to bed with no dinner. The force that kept her aloft when her 9th grade English teacher humiliated her in front of the other students because she was the only one who didn't have a laptop to bring to the class. Now she couldn't see anything in front of her, just shapes and colors distorted by salty tears. It made her think of something her friend Miles once said about his vision. He was terribly nearsighted, and to him, the world was just swirls of pretty colors colliding together and moving apart. That was now the world to Lindy. She wasn't going to bother brushing the tears away; she just kept moving.

She managed to stumble out of the police station without falling over. She was aware of a low wailing noise in her ears, but it hadn't registered yet that it was coming from her. She kept walking, faltering blind, until she ran into something. She soon realized it wasn't some_thing_, but some_one_. The someone put their arms around her, drawing her close. She began to struggle against it, fighting against its hold, until she felt a familiar voice whisper in her ear, "It's okay, I'm here."

Sobs wracked her body, shaking her from head to toe like an earthquake. She clutched at Kyle's shirt, grabbing handfuls of it while she buried her face in his neck and screamed her anguish. He matched her assault with the gentlest of caresses, stroking her back up and down as if to quiet a child. He didn't say a word – what could you say at a time like that, anyway? – so he just held her while she cried.

Lindy finally got to a point where she couldn't cry anymore – she was like a dishrag that had been wrung out. Her body felt limp to her, and she hung on Kyle heavily. He began to walk her to the car, when he heard a voice call out, "Hey! Wait!"

Kyle turned around to see Lindy's uncle sprinting towards them. "Who are you? Where are you taking her?" John demanded.

Kyle looked down at Lindy, who was clinging to him, shellshocked. "I'm taking her home," he said simply.

"And why should I let you do that?"

Kyle scowled at him. "It's what her father wanted. Are you really going to fight me on this?"

Uncle John relented; after all, he didn't really want the responsibility anyway. Kyle got Lindy into the back of the limo, and they started back to Brooklyn.

* * *

As Kyle sat in the car, Lindy in his arms, he thought of his conversation earlier with her father.

"What do you mean, she's never going to see you again? What are you going to do?" he asked the man sharply.

"I'm going to prison," Daniel Taylor told him. "I killed a man, and as long as I keep that to myself, Lindy's life is in danger."

"You realize what this is going to do to her when she finds out?"

"That's why I need you to be there afterwards. I want you to promise me that you'll take care of her. Promise me you'll make her happy – happier than I ever made her."

When he hung up with Lindy's father, he realized that she'd tried to call him when he was on the line. He listened to the voicemail she left him – the emotional confession that she loved him and that he was her life and her home. And he knew that he would have walked to Great Neck – hell, he'd have walked to China if he had to – because she needed him right then and there.

The sun had nearly set when the limo pulled up in front of the house in Brooklyn. Keeping an arm around her waist, Kyle led Lindy out of the car and up the stairs. As they entered the house, Will and Zola left what they were doing and came out to meet them. But Kyle kept leading Lindy up the stairs, throwing a look over his shoulder to his friends that told them that he'd talk to them about it later.

He took her to his room, not hers. His room was cooler, and more comfortable – not that she seemed to be aware of it. Lindy's face still registered quiet shock.

He sat her down on the bed, and pulled off her shoes and socks. He removed her jacket, took her hair out of its ponytail. He pulled back the sheets and laid her down, encasing her in their cool white deepness. Her eyes fluttered briefly, then shut under the promise of sleep.

She looked so small and delicate lying in the bed, and the desire to keep her safe flared inside of him. He began to turn away, only to feel a small warm hand grasp his arm. A hoarse whisper of a word met his ears like an embrace: "Stay."

He could never deny her. Stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers, he climbed into bed next to her, and felt her curl herself around him. Soon he heard her breathing get deep, heavy, and even, and it began to lull him to sleep himself. He'd nearly dropped off when he heard her call him in the darkness.

"Kyle?"

"Hmm?"

"There's nothing I could have done for him, is there?"

Kyle sighed, planting a kiss on her head. "No, Baby. There isn't."


	9. Chapter 9

She opened her eyes to near darkness. Her head hurt – a deep, throbbing ache that increased in intensity when she tried to turn her eyes from either side.

She wasn't sure where she was. The bed beneath her was softer than her bed at her old apartment, and the window, shedding the scant amount of light that was coming through, was on the wrong side of the room. She shifted slightly, and was aware of someone in bed with her, curled around her frame. And then it came back to her: her visit to Great Neck, speaking to Detective Andrews, her father being taken away in handcuffs, and finally, Kyle coming to bring her home and putting her to bed in his room, not hers.

She tried to breathe, but it came out as a shudder. Lindy realized now why her head was hurting so much – it always hurt like this either when she was very thirsty, or when she'd cried a lot.

She'd cried a great deal, she now remembered, but she was very thirsty too. Would she wake Kyle if she got up? She'd never shared a bed with someone else – she'd never had to be careful getting out of bed. Lindy turned to look at him, but she couldn't see his face in the dark. She had to assume he was asleep, judging by how still he was.

Then, suddenly, as if he somehow knew that she was watching him, he spoke. "Lindy?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." Her dry throat made her answer come out as a croak.

She felt him shift as he sat up slightly. "What do you need, Baby?"

_How did he know she needed anything?_

She swallowed painfully. "A glass of water."

"All right." The bed wobbled upward gently as he got up.

She heard the soft padding of his footsteps as he left the room. She felt guilty, getting him out of bed just to get her water. She wasn't used to this sort of thing – being cared for like this. She had been the caregiver for most of her life with her father, in effect, being the parent instead of the child. She'd never let her mask of control slip before, not in front of anyone. Kyle was the first person who had ever seen her that vulnerable. As disorienting as the whole thing had been, she was glad it had been him.

Over the course of the last hours, the loss of her father had dwindled down from a raw, tearing sharpness to a dull, empty ache. It was as if she'd nearly recovered from having surgery – the removal of a major organ that, in time, she'd adapt to living without. She knew that her life would be easier without her father, and the he himself had realized this fact too. But he was still her father, she still loved him, and she would miss him all the same.

By now, Kyle was returning with her water. He somehow managed to deftly maneuver his way through the room without any light. He switched on the lamp on the table next to the bed and sat down next to her.

He was beautiful. Even in the garish fluorescence of the electric light, even at the lateness of the hour. He'd always been beautiful, but it was the look in his eyes that made Lindy's heart race. Pure love, and concern. It was a look that told her that he'd never be happy if she wasn't happy too, and he'd spend his entire life ensuring this equilibrium. This beautiful man loved _her_, and only her.

Silently he held the glass out to her. Obediently she took the glass and sipped the water. She kept her eyes down, but she could feel him looking at her, evaluating her condition, ready to swoop down and catch her if she began to fall into despair again. She drank the whole thing, trying to put off looking at him as long as she could. Finally she finished and set the glass on the table.

He smiled gently at her. "You good?"

She nodded mutely, afraid her voice would fail her if she tried. He returned her nod and climbed back in bed to lie beside her. Because the lamp was on Lindy's side of the bed, Kyle had to lean over her in order to turn it off.

The warmth of him being so near made desire suddenly creep over her like a thick veil of steam. The timing was all wrong, she knew – she was still hurting from what had happened – but nonetheless, she wanted him. She reached up and clasped his shoulders, keeping him from moving away after the light was turned off.

"Kyle," she whispered softly. She started pulling him down against her. Lindy could feel him tense, softly resisting her, but she ignored it and reached up to kiss him.

He returned the kiss, his lips light and tentative against hers. She sighed and moved one hand to the back of his head, combing her fingers through his hair, trying to get him to press himself to her.

But he wouldn't. He began to slowly pull away while gently bringing her arms away from his shoulders to rest at her sides. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned his chin on the top of her head, in essence giving her comfort while effectively putting to rest the possibility of anything else happening.

"Kyle?" she asked, confused.

"Shh," he said soothingly, rubbing her back. "It wouldn't be right. Go to sleep."

Rejection burned mildly at the back of her head and in her heart, but exhaustion easily claimed her and she was too spent to argue. She shut her eyes again and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

_Four days later…_

Zola was loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher when Kyle entered the kitchen, carrying a tray with a half-eaten plate of food. The look on his face was tinged lightly with disappointment. Zola shook her head and began to take it from him.

"Is there room in the washer, Zola?" Kyle asked.

"It full, but I can wash it."

"No, don't worry about it," he told her, holding it away. "I'll wash the plate. I have to learn sometime, right?"

Zola smiled sadly, thinking of her impending departure. "True enough, darlin'." She raised her eyes to the floor above them. "How she doin'?"

Kyle sighed when he reviewed the previous hour in his head. When Lindy had skipped both the previous night's dinner and that day's breakfast, he was determined to get her to eat. He'd first brought a tray of food to his room, expecting that she'd be there, as she'd slept in his bed every night since her father's arrest.

But she wasn't there. Pondering it, Kyle decided to go up to the very top floor, to her original bedroom. Sure enough, she was sitting on her bed, poring over an album. He knocked on the wood paneling next to the staircase.

She looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. "Hi," she greeted him.

"Hi. Can I come in?"

She frowned in confusion. "Of course, Kyle."

He laid the tray on the bed next to her. "I brought you some lunch."

"Oh. Thanks." Lindy went back to looking at the album.

"Lindy, please eat. I'm worried about you."

Lindy looked up at Kyle, ready to protest, but his steel blue stare made her back down. "All right," she acquiesced, but her tone made it clear that she was only doing it to appease him.

"What are you looking at?" he asked her, trying to lighten the mood.

Lindy took a small bite of the sandwich on the tray and replied, "Old photos of my dad and mom."

"Oh."

"I can't help wondering what my life would have been like if my mom hadn't died. I wonder what my dad's life would have been like."

"Sometimes I wonder how things would have been if my mom hadn't left my dad," Kyle told her, thinking of the one photo of his mother that he had. It was a small scrap of bonded paper with a snapshot of his mother, taken long before he was born, before she was even married. She was sitting on the sofa in her parents' house, her face lit up with a laughing smile. She looked so young, so carefree…Kyle couldn't help but wonder if the reason why she left was because she was miserable being a wife and mother and she wanted to go back to the way she used to be.

Lindy looked down. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about, but I didn't know how to start."

Kyle nodded. "I think I know what it is."

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's about me knowing about what your dad did, right?"

Lindy exhaled deeply, and Kyle realized she must have been holding her breath. "Yeah. I mean, I understand why you didn't tell me. You were put in a really awkward position, and you felt like it wasn't your place to tell me, right?"

"Yes. Exactly. I'm sorry."

Lindy gave a short, bitter laugh. "When I think about it now, I'm glad I didn't know. I've played the 'Hurt Now or Hurt Later' game lots of times with my dad, and for once, I think it was better to hurt later. At least I got to see him, one last time." Her words came out choked as she looked down at the yellowed plastic pages of the album.

Kyle reached out and cupped her face in his hands, gently turning her head upwards to look at him. "You don't always have to be so brave, you know."

She sighed and leaned her cheek against his palm. "I come with a lot of baggage, Kyle. Samsonite's got nothing on me."

"And you think I don't? I wore mine all over my body for a year, if you recall."

Suddenly Lindy pulled away from his hand and sat up, and the frightened look on her face scared him. "You know I love you, right?" she asked him softly.

He frowned. "Of course I do. Why would you even ask that?"

"Just-just with what's happened, and…something Kendra said to me."

Kyle's face darkened. "When did you see her? What did she do?" As grateful as he was to Kendra for showing him the errors of his ways, he still feared her and her abilities. It unnerved him to hear that she'd talked to Lindy.

"She didn't do anything. She helped me, actually. It was that time I went back to Buckston, and Pibner was saying I owed money, and she worked her juju and…somehow made him drop it. But she told me not to take anything for granted." Lindy decided to leave out the part about Kendra threatening to teach her a lesson. She hadn't missed the look of alarm on Kyle's face.

Kyle's brow furrowed in confusion. "I think I'm missing something."

She looked down. "I just don't want to lose you. I've lost so much…" Her voice trailed off, lost in the beginning of a sob. Half a second later, she was in Kyle's arms, sitting across his lap.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered in her ear as he rocked her. "You saved my life."

"But I couldn't save my dad," she murmured into his neck.

"Your father made his own choices, Lindy. You can't change them. It's not your fault," he told her. "Sometimes – sometimes, you have to just let people go." His heart tightened in his chest when he thought about his parents, who'd both deserted him.

Lindy looked up at him, her eyes clearer, as if she'd had an epiphany. "That's what my dad did. I see that now. He let me go."

* * *

"So?" Zola's accented voice shook him from his thoughts. "How is Lindy copin'?"

"I think she'll be okay," Kyle replied quietly as he cleaned the dishes. "But I wish…"

"Wish what, darlin'?"

"I wish that happily ever after was easy to get to."

Zola laid her hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Nothin' would be worth it if it was all easy to come by, ya know. I know dat for a fact." She sighed. "And now dat I bring it up, I been waitin' to tell ya—"

"That the Waldorf-Astoria offered you a job as a concierge?" Kyle finished her sentence with a playful smile. Zola looked surprised, so he explained. "The manager called me the day before yesterday for reference info. It sounded like you killed it in the interview. When do they want you to start?"

She smiled shyly. "Two weeks from Monday. But I stay on, if you need me-"

"No way," Kyle interrupted. "Are you all ready? Do you have a place? What about your family?"

Zola laughed. "So concerned, Mr. Kingson! Well yes, my husband and children are comin' in on Sunday, and we have an apartment already. I would have told ya, but…wit' all dat happen…"

"I know, I know. It's been insane." Kyle paused for a second, thinking of something. "Do you have a way to pick them up?"

"I get a taxi," she answered with a shrug.

Kyle shook his head. "Actually, I think the limo will do fine."

Zola's eyes grew wide. "Boy, you crazy!"

He laughed and put his arms around her. "No, I'm just paying you back for all the great advice you've given me over the last year. I'd still look like an overgrown patchwork doll if it weren't for you. So say 'yes'."

She laughed. "Yes."

* * *

Kyle and Lindy stood quietly in a corner of the baggage claim at Laguardia, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. They both knew that this was a big moment for Zola, a moment she'd been waiting for for years. Kyle convinced Lindy to come with him to meet Zola's family; he figured that was the best way for her to heal: going out and continuing to do things, live life.

Time seemed to drag as they waited for flight 1890 to land – Kyle reasoned wryly that if time seemed to drag for him, it must be petrified like amber for Zola – so he found himself focusing on the warmth of Lindy's hand in his.

He squeezed the hand he held and smiled at her when she turned to him. "I know I ask this to a crazy amount these days, but are you okay?" he asked her.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "I'll be fine. Life has to go on, right?"

Kyle was about to affirm this statement when a throng of passengers from flight 1890 filled the claim area. They watched as Zola darted her head up and down, searching anxiously for her family. Then, at last, a joyful cry escaped her throat as her husband and three children bolted towards her like a ray of pure light.

"This was what it was all about," Lindy heard Kyle murmur.

She looked at him with a confused smile. "Huh?"

"Kendra's curse. I thought it was all about me, about teaching me a lesson. But it was really about all the connections in life. You know, helping others, and letting them help you." Kyle looked pointedly at Lindy during the last part of his sentence.

Kyle's message was not lost on her. Taking his arm in hers, she leaned her head against him while looking at the ground shyly. "I never thought I'd like someone taking care of me. But you do a great job. You're a natural."

He tilted her chin gently upward so he could see her face. "So, do you forgive me?"

"For what?"

"For lying about who I was. For pretending to be someone else, all that time."

Lindy took his face in her hands, kissing his cheeks, his chin, his nose, and finally his lips. "What do you think? I know why you did it. But really, I think that all that time, together in the house, you were becoming the real you anyway."

Kyle grinned and was about to respond when he heard a voice call out, "Kyle, Lindy! Come meet me fam'ly!"

The couple looked across the way to Zola's beaming face, her arms full of her three children and tons of suitcases at their feet.

Kyle and Lindy spent the rest of the day helping Zola, her husband Stefan, their two daughters, Daisy and Selina, and their son Anthony move into their apartment in Queens. Stefan and Kyle instantly bonded over being the only two people in the group with upper body strength, resigned to lugging the heaviest of the furniture. The two girls took to Lindy quickly, especially Selina, the younger one. She wanted to buy clothes like Lindy's, wear her hair like Lindy's, listen to the music Lindy liked. It seemed to unnerve Lindy at first, to be so admired in so short a time, but she quickly became fond of the little girl, even giving Selina one of her CDs to keep.

Before they knew it, the day was over and their work was done. It suddenly occurred to Kyle that Zola would no longer be there when he woke up in the morning. She would no longer take her afternoon tea at the table on the roof. He wouldn't hear her singing "You are My Sunshine" while she did the laundry. No more "thinking" advice to win Lindy.

But she belonged with her family, and he was happy for her. He quietly shut the door to their apartment and left, the sounds of laughter and calypso music echoing gently behind him.

* * *

The first thing Kyle and Lindy noticed when they got back to the apartment was a neat line of bags and boxes marking the side wall of the foyer. Kyle looked at Lindy in confusion and walked to the bottom of the stairs. "Hey, Will?" he called out to the floor above them. After a few seconds, Will appeared at the top of the stairs, an overflowing cardboard box in his arms.

"Hey there, you crazy kids in love!" he called to them, gingerly walking down to their level.

Kyle scowled. "What the hell is all this?"

"It's called 'moving out.' The most wonderful time of the year," Will joked.

"Will? You're leaving us? Where are you going?" Lindy asked.

Their tutor laughed lightly. "About 1,000 yards away. I'm renting one of the townhouses across the street."

Kyle and Lindy simultaneously turned around and peeked out the window to the line of blue and white houses that glowed in the early evening sun. "Jeez, Will. Why waste your money? You can just stay here."

"Because the contract I had with your dad is terminated. I've prepared you for graduation like I was supposed to – and this, of course, is his house. Besides, you two need your own space. You're adults now." Kyle and Lindy smiled at each other when he said this.

"So what about a job?" Kyle asked.

Will set the box in his arms down and grinned. "Funny you should ask – it looks like I'm heading out to your own stomping grounds at Gucci High – I mean, Buckston Academy."

"Buckston? That vapid hole?" Kyle asked, ignoring Lindy as she rolled her eyes. "Well, all I can say is, they're lucky to have you."

"I'll tell them that you sent me. I'm sure that'll go over real well," Will joked. "So…I guess that's everything. I'm going to bring the last of the boxes over to my new place tomorrow."

Lindy stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Will. "Thanks so much. For everything," she whispered.

"Aw, this isn't goodbye. I'll be right across the street," he told her.

"But it won't be the same," she told him, trying not to pout.

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened," Will told her.

"Dr. Seuss?"

"Yes! The only doctor I've ever trusted. Kudos for knowing that."

"I had a good tutor," Lindy told him with a wink.

"Let me help you walk some of the boxes over," Kyle offered, then gave Lindy a pointed look that told her that her boyfriend wanted to talk to their former tutor by himself.

"So what's on your mind, Kyle?" Will asked as they walked over to the new house.

Kyle grinned. "Just wanted to say that I'm grateful for everything you've done for me. Yeah, I know, my dad paid you to be here, but you really went above the call of duty. And, also wanted to say…sorry for being such a dick those first couple of days."

Will's eyes widened. "Couple of d_ays_?"

"All right, all right, weeks, I guess," Kyle admitted. "But you made it bearable for me, you and Zola. I'll never forget that."

Will smiled and nodded. "It was my pleasure. Really." He held his hand out to Kyle. "I guess we have to thank your dad for our friendship."

Kyle's face darkened automatically at the mention of his father. "Must we?"

"Kyle, I know you're angry at him, and you have every right to be. But what Zola told you before is right – he has provided for you. In his own, indirect way, he gave you the tools to cope."

Kyle felt like a pitch black room in his heart had been opened with Will's words. He'd never thought about it, but it was true: his father had made sure that he'd had what he needed to make it through his isolation. True, it was material things and not the love he'd wanted, but thanks to his father, he had the means to do what was most important to him: take care of Lindy.

"Will, what's today's date?"

"Um…it's the 12th. Why?"

Kyle smiled. "I just realized I have a party to go to."

* * *

Rob Kingson took another sip of his scotch and sighed. He'd been trying all night to get the attention of Bernie Lauter, the head of the network, so he could sell his spiel about the talk show that was being developed. Unfortunately Brick Dennison, that bubble-headed weatherman who tries to pass himself off as a "meteorologist," had been monopolizing Bernie's time the moment their boss walked into the banquet hall. Rob had to suppress a chuckle when he thought of Brick actually thinking he'd ever have a chance to get the talk show. It was well known that his lemon-yellow pompadour was nothing but an elaborate comb-over, and only slightly lesser known he'd been getting speech therapy for years to conceal quite a prominent stutter. Give Brick anything more stressful than reporting a blizzard watch, and listen to him sound like a b-b-b-broken re-re-record.

Then again, Brick had his entire family with him that night, including his big-toothed wife and their two big-toothed daughters. That definitely worked in his favor. If only Rob could have convinced Kyle to come to the dinner. Now that Kyle was back to his normal self, Rob hoped that his son would remember what was important in life. But that girl he'd taken up with had apparently skewed all of his values. He knew his son would tire of her eventually, but it was just frustrating all the same.

Rob looked around the room restlessly, and was surprised to find his son Kyle, dressed impeccably yet simply in black, talking to the chunky receptionist Brenda. Rob felt his face automatically twist in disgust when Kyle hugged her, his hands practically getting trapped in her folds of fat.

Even so, Rob was glad Kyle had listened to him. He forced a smile onto his face and jaunted over to his son. "Kyle! Son! You made it!" he called out cheerfully.

Kyle turned to him with almost a Buddha-like calmness on his face: not a smile, but nothing even approaching disdain. "Hi, Dad. I've come to talk to you."

"Of course. But first, there's someone I'd like you to meet." Ignoring Brenda completely, Rob put an arm around Kyle's shoulders and began to lead him away.

"It was good to see you again, Kyle!" Brenda called out.

"You too, Brenda! Have a great time!" Kyle returned.

Rob guided his son with effective precision to Bernie Lauter, and with a smile dripping with well-practiced charm, he interrupted Brick's monotonous story-telling. "I'm so sorry, Brick, but Kyle hasn't had the chance to meet Bernie, even though I've been talking about him for years!" he laughed. Brick glared at Rob, but took the cue and sauntered off in search of his orthodontically-challenged family.

"Bernie, meet my son Kyle," Rob purred.

"Ah, Kyle, it's nice to finally meet you," Bernie told him.

"You too, Mr. Lauter."

"Well! I can see the family resemblance. No doubt you're a chip off the old block."

Kyle looked at his father and smiled. "Actually, Mr. Lauter, my father and I are about as different as they come. He's done things I don't agree with, and I know I believe in things he doesn't approve of. And of course, we both think that each of us is right and the other is wrong, and neither one of us plans to back down – at least, I don't plan to."

Rob's smile began to falter into an embarrassed grimace and his mind began to frantically find ways to salvage the conversation. Just when he was about to fumble his way through an excuse, Kyle continued his statement.

"But one thing that my dad has made me understand, is that in the end, it doesn't matter. I'm only going to get one father in this life, and that relationship goes far past what I believe or what he believes. My dad's given me what I need. Parents do the best they can with what they know – that's what I've learned."

Bernie smiled at Kyle. "Well, that's a pretty deep philosophy, Kyle. It usually takes people years to understand that." He turned to Rob. "Rob, can I speak with you when you have a moment?"

Rob felt his heart jump out of his chest, but remained cool on the surface. "Of course. Kyle, you'll excuse me for a moment?" He barely waited for his son to nod his assent before he followed the network head over to the hors d'oeuvres table.

Once they were alone, Bernie turned to Rob with a serious, yet pleasant look on his face. "I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but the network is developing a new talk show. We want it to be family-oriented, but we want it honest too. From the interaction between you and your son, I can tell that your personal philosophy matches perfectly with what we're looking for. Would you be able to come in on Monday to discuss the opportunity? That is, if you're interested?"

Rob gave his best professional smile and replied, "It sounds like a wonderful opportunity, Bernie. I'd love to hear more about it on Monday. Thanks for thinking of me."

After finishing up with his manager, Rob looked for Kyle around the room. To his dismay, he found him making his way to the door.

Rob clutched his son's shoulder and turned him around. "Kyle! Where are you going? You just got here."

Again, Rob was met with a zen-like calmness. Kyle shook his head with a smile. "Already told you, Dad. This isn't my thing. I only came to say what I needed to say, and I did that."

"But, Kyle! Do you know what you've done? You've cinched that talk show hosting gig for me! At least let me take you around and meet some of the movers and shakers in the business. I can repay you for what you just did."

"Dad…what I just did was just as much for me as it was for you. After I was cursed and you left me at the apartment in Brooklyn, I was just full of hate. I hated the world, I hated everything. And as long as I felt that way, nothing was going to change for me. I don't want to be an angry, bitter person. What's done is done. I wish you nothing but the best, Dad. I want you to be happy."

"I don't understand, Kyle."

Kyle smiled sadly and laid his hands on his father's shoulders. "I hope someday you do." He turned and left the hall, leaving his father in a state of confusion.

As Kyle was climbing the stairs to the exit, Bernie was around the corner, conversing with a young woman about Kyle's age. Her long blonde tresses were streaked with black and her makeup leaned toward the theatrical, but her tight black leather suit and jacket were the height of fashion.

"Well, it's a great pleasure to have the daughter of one of our investors interested in learning more about our business. I assume you have a resume to send us, Miss Hilferty?"

Kendra smiled. "I can email it first thing tomorrow morning to your production assistant, Mr. Lauter. I'm really looking forward to working on your new talk show."

"Well that's wonderful, my dear. And I've just made my decision on the host. You'll be working very closely with him."

Kendra cast her sparkling green eyes across the room at Rob Kingson, who was admiring his profile in the mirrored wall next to the buffet table. She chuckled lightly. "I can hardly wait."

* * *

The day after Will left, Kyle received two game-changing pieces of mail: one was the results of his and Lindy's GED tests, and the other was a communication from his father's bank.

He had to admit, he was dreading looking at how he did on the GED exam. So he opened the bank communication first. He read the letter enclosed in the envelope, then blinked and read it again. His father had granted him early access to his trust fund. Originally supposed to be available to him when he turned 21, he could now access the hundreds of thousands at his current age, 18.

A wry smile played upon Kyle's lips. While he was most definitely excited about having all this money at his fingertips (he already had an idea about what he wanted to do with it), he still felt sad that this was his father's way to reaching out to him. Rob Kingson still felt that the best way to show his love was through the giving of material things instead of the giving of himself. Still, Kyle held on to hope that one day, this would change. After all, stranger things had happened.

It was finally time to stop delaying the inevitable: the GED test results were still sitting there, waiting to be revealed. Kyle opened both envelopes from NYSED: his first, then hers. Lindy had asked him before to open her letter when it arrived, hoping it would be easier to take bad news if it came from him. He looked at the results gravely, then went up to the greenhouse to tell her.

Lindy had finished watering the last of the rosebushes and sat down on the bench, facing the glowing setting sun. The unseasonable heat of the day had faded and now it was getting cold and breezy. Lindy pulled her denim jacket a little closer to her and crossed her arms against her sides.

She heard footsteps on the stairs outside of the greenhouse, and she turned toward them. There he was, standing in front of her, smiling gently. And something felt different.

Ever since Lindy had found out about the curse Kendra had placed on Kyle, she had to keep reminding herself that Hunter and Kyle were the same person. When she heard his voice, when she felt his touch – she had to tell herself that the handsome man talking to her or touching her was the same as the scarred man who saved her life.

This was the first time it didn't happen. She didn't look at him expecting to see scars or tattoos; she didn't look at him and get flustered by his gorgeousness. All she saw was him – Kyle, the man she loved.

"Hey," she said, walking over to him.

"Hey," he replied, waving two pieces of paper at his side. "Our test results came in."

She took a breath. "Okay. And?"

"And…we passed."

She laughed and embraced him. "Yay! Not that I ever had a doubt."

He laughed too. "I never doubted _you_. Now _me_…that was a different story."

"Oh, stop it."

"So…how should we celebrate?" Kyle asked, holding both her hands. "I could take you out to dinner, or we plan a weekend getaway, or…you know, something like that."

But Lindy made a face and said, "Hmm. Maybe we should just go to bed."

He frowned and looked out at the sliver of sun left in the sky. "Uh…it's a little early to go to sleep, don't you think?"

She shook her head and smiled. She then wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a long, breathless kiss. After they broke away, she gazed up at him with a devilish smile on her face. "That's not what I meant."

His eyes widened in surprise and delight, thrilled by the love and conviction in Lindy's eyes. Kyle pulled her against him, resting his lips against her neck. She could feel his chuckle vibrate deliciously against her skin. "I think I could be convinced."

* * *

"So I was thinking…"

"Yeah?"

"We just passed the GED, and my dad just gave me early access to my trust fund. How about we celebrate our good luck…and take that trip to Machu Picchu you've been jonesing for? Better yet, how about we make it a trip around the world – see it all? What do you say?"

Lindy smiled and turned over onto her stomach, resting her head on her crossed arms. "I say…I'm glad I put out before you asked me, or I might feel a little bit of pressure to later on."

Kyle laughed. They lay together in their bed – it was an unspoken understanding that it was now _their _bed, not just Kyle's – feeling pleasantly numb and spent. He rested his hand on the small of her bare back, marveling at how the shape of his palm seemed to fit every curve of her body he'd explored that night. "Did it hurt a lot?" he asked, feeling a bit guilty.

"A little," she admitted. "But it was one of these rare, good kind of hurts."

He looked away, his empty moments with Sloan flitting regretfully through his mind. "I wish…I'd waited for you."

She leaned over and kissed him reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. I think at least one of us should know what they're doing."

With a chuckle, he said, "So tomorrow, we'll figure out our itinerary for the trip. And I'm gonna laugh my ass off all the way to the bank to withdraw the money we need."

"Sounds like a plan." Lindy turned over onto her side to face him, wrapping an arm around his waist with a contented sigh. "So, this is what happily ever after feels like."

"Yep. Get used to it, Baby. Because I don't plan to ever let you go."

"You'd better not," she replied with a giggle. "I love you."

He combed his fingers through her hair. "I love you too." He rested his hand on her hip, quickly realizing that he was touching her scar. Quickly he moved his hand away. "Oh, sorry," he apologized.

It took Lindy a moment to figure out what Kyle was talking about, because she hadn't noticed at all. The pain of her old life, the burden of a closed heart – it had faded away like waking up from a bad dream. All that she loved and lost and gained and wanted and needed – it was completely reconciled, at long last.

"No, that's okay," she said, moving his hand back to her hip, then snuggling against his chest. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

_- The End - _


End file.
